LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 



m^^ 



LETTERS 



OF 



ELIZA WILKINSON, 



DURING THE 



INVASION AND POSSESSION OF CHARLESTOWN, S. C. BY THE 
BRITISH IN THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. 



ARRANGED FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPTS, 



BY 



CAROLINE OILMAN. 



NEW-YORK : 

PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL COLMAN, 

NO. 8 ASTOR HOUSE. 
BROADWAY. 

1839. 






[Entered according to the Act of Congress of the United States of 
America, in the year 1839, by S. Colman, in the Clerk's Office 
of the Southern District of New- York.] 



) 3 iJ^ 



New-York: 

Printed by Scatcherd & Adams, 

No. 38 Gold Stteet. 



PREFACE. 



Few records exist of American women either be- 
fore or during the war of the revolution. Those 
perpetuated by history, though honorable, particular- 
ly to the Southern States, want the charm of person- 
al narration. To those of us who dwell among her 
kindred, Eliza Wilkinson's letters present a most liv- 
ing picture ; and they cannot fail to excite public in- 
terest at a period, when such anxiety is abroad to 
gather every relic of our part history before it floats 
away down the stream of time. 

At the season of writing her letters, Mrs. Wilkin- 
son was a young and beautiful widow ; her hand- 
writing, where it is not defaced by the damps of time 
is clear and feminine. The letters were copied by her- 
self into a blank quarto book, on which the extrava- 
gant sale-price marks one of the features of the times. 

Yonge's Island is about thirty miles southwardly 
from Charlestown, and is separated from the main 
land by a small creek, over which there is a cause- 



VI PREFACE. 

way. " The Sands," near which she lost her shoes 
in flight, still retain the name. The avenue to 
which she alludes remains, though a parallel one 
has been formed by the division of the estate among 
descendants. Nothing can exceed the beauty of this 
approach, it being a hedge of the Cherokee Rose 
three miles in length. The old family mansion has 
been removed, but the burial-ground is held sacred.. 



CONTENTS. 



Letter First. lutrodiictory remarks. British outrages at the North. 
A Negro woman announces the approach of the enemy within 
five miles of Yonge's Island. Terror of the women, Mrs. 
Wilkinson goes to Wadmalaw. Distress at leaving her old 
father. Meets a boat-load of fugitive women and children on 
their way to Charlestown. 

Letter Second. Reports and alarms. Ladies become politicians. 
The Wadmalaw guard taken. Mrs. Wilkinson returns to her 
father. General Lincoln expected. Address to Hope. 

Letter Third'. Thoughts on peace. Mrs. Wilkinson retreats 
again from the river plantation at the approach of the enemy. 
Affecting interview with passing soldiers. The enemy kept 
off by a Negro. British soldiers. A visit of plunder and in- 
sult on the 2d of June. Another on the 3d. A party of 
M'Girth's men arrive at the plantation. 

Letter Fourth. Another body of troops visit Mr. Yonge's plan- 
tation. They insult and plunder the old people. 

Letter Fifth. Reflections on life. An odd mistake of Mrs . 
Wilkinson's. Col, Malmady. 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Letter Sixth. Major Moore's thoughts on liberty. Incidents. 
M'Girth's men again. Mrs. W. obliged to return to her fa- 
ther's. Incidents on the way. 

Letter Seventh. Another alarm and removal. Amusing descrip- 
tion of the flight. General Lincoln arrives. His appearance. 
Major Wise, Alarm at Yonge's Island. General Lincoln 
defeated near Stono Ferry. Mr. Yonge and family retire to 
Wiltown. 

Letter Eighth. New aggressions of the enemy. Reduction of 
Charlestown. 

Letter Ninth. Complaints respecting the parole. 

Lietter Tenth, Lament over British successes. Small-pox.' 

Letter Eleventh. Mrs Wilkinson visits Charlestown. Goes on 
board the prison-ship. Conversation with British Officers. 
Walk on the Bay. Shopping in Broad-Street. 

\4etter Twelfth. Joy at Cornwallis's surrender. Col. Allen. 
Conversation with Captain Sanford, a British officer. 



LETTERS, cfec 



LETTER I. 

Introductory remarks. British outrages at the North. A Negro 
woman announces the approach of the enemy within five miles 
of Yonge's Island. Terror of the women. Mrs. Wilkinson 
goes to Wadmalaw. Distress at leaving her old father. Meets 
a boat-load of fugitive women and children on their way to Charles- 
town. 

To Miss M P -. 

Yonge's Island, 1782. 
As I mean never to forget the loving. kindness and ten^ 
der mercies of the renowned Britons while among as, in 
the ever-memorable year 1779, I shall transmit you a 
brief account of their ]polite behavior to my Father and 
family, where you will find me sufficiently punished for 
being something of an unbeliever heretofore. You 

2 



10 LETTERS 

know we had always heard most terrible accounts of 
the actions of the British troops at the northward ; 
but, (fool that I was,) I thought they must be exaggerat- 
ed, for I could not believe that a nation so famed for 
humanity, and many other virtues, should, in so short a 
time, divest themselves of even the least trace of what 
they once were. 

Surely, said I, they can't, in so short a time, have 
commenced savages, and lost those virtues which have 
distinguished them from other nations. Yet, sometimes, 
when I heard fresh accounts of their cruelty to our 
Northern brethren when in their power, I could not re- 
press my indignation against the barbarous, hard-hearted 
Britons, (how changed their character !) and believed, or 
almost believed, what I had heard of them. I say almost, 
for I was so infatuated with what 1 had formerly heard 
and read of Englishmen, that I thought humanity, and 
every manly sentiment, were their inherent qualities ; — 
though 1 cannot but say that, much as I had admired 
the former lustre of the British character, my soul 
shrunk from the thought of having any communication 
with a people who had left their homes with a direct in- 
tention to imbrue their hands in the blood of my beloved 
countrymen, or deprive them of their birthright, Liberty 



OF ELIZA WILXINSON. 11 

and property. The thought alarmed me, shocked me. 
I began to look on the Britons in earnest as enemies. 

At length I heard they had got possession of the 
Georgia State, and used the inhabitants cruelly, paying 
no respect to age or sex ; but then, again, I heard to the 
contrary, that their behavior to the ladies was unex- 
ceptionable. I did not know what to think, much less 
what to do, should they invade our State, which was 
daily expected. 

Thousands would I have given to have been in any 
part of the globe where I might not see them, or to have 
been secure from the impending evils, which were ready 
to burst over our heads. 

I was in Charlestown when we heard that a large 
party of them had landed somewhere near Beaufort. I 
saw several detachments of our Southern troops leave 
town to oppose the invaders of their country. They 
marched with the greatest alacrity imaginable, not re- 
garding the weather, though the rain poured down inces- 
santly upon them. I cannot describe my feelings upon 
this sight — gratitude, affection, and pity for my country- 
men filled my heart and my eyes, which pursued them 
until out of sight, and then every good wish attended 
them. However, it was not long before our little band 



12 LETTERS 

of patriots returned to their homes in triumph, excepting 
a few, who had sealed the cause with their blood. Peace 
to their ashes, and everlasting happiness to their immor- 
tal part. 

" Well have they perished — for in fight they fell." I 
think old Priam says this of his sons, who fell at the 
siege of Troy. But who can forbear the tear of sympa- 
thy for the distressed families, who are left behind to 
mourn the fall of those they highly valued, and from 
whom they derived their support ? Pitiable reflection ! 
"How seldom do the rich feel the distresses of the poor, 
and in the midst of conquest and acclamation, who re- 
gardeth the tears and afflictions of those who have lost 
their friends in the public ?" 

Now, the time drew near when this State was to have 
her day of suffering in sympathy with her sister States. 
Oh, how I dreaded the approaching enemy ! I had 
thoughts (with my other friends,) to go higher up the 
country to avoid them ; but as my Father, with many 
others of my relations, had not conveniences ready to car- 
ry off their effects with them, and as the enemy aproach- 
ed rapidly, they agreed to stay. It was a melancholy 
sight to see such crowds of helpless, distressed women, 
weeping for husbands, brothers, or other near relations 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 13 

and friends, who were they knew not where, whether 
dead or alive. When the enemy were at Ashepoo, or 
somewhere thereabouts, my sister and sister-in-law were 
then at my Father's, when one Sunday morning a negro 
wench, who had been out visiting, came running home 
in a violent hurry, informing us that a party of British 
horse were then at Mr. W.'s, not above five or six miles 
from us. 

A boy on the road had informed our servant of the 
approach of the enemy. This created such confusion 
and distress among us all as I cannot describe. A boat 
was immediately pushed off. My sister Yonge, my sis- 
ter Smilie, and myself, were desirous of putting the evil 
day afar off; so we went over the river to Mr. Smilie 's. 
Father and Mother ventured to stay at home. Melan- 
choly were the adieus on both sides. We had got but a 
small distance from the house when we met another lady, 
who, upon receiving the like information, had walked 
about two miles, (if not more,) to Father's. She joined us 
and away we went, often looking back, with watery 
eyes, to our Father's dwelling, thinking, at the same time, 
that in all probability, even while we were looking, he 
might be suffering all the insults and cruelties that a 
remorseless gang of barbarians could inflict. These 

2* 



14 LETTERS 

thoughts drew sighs and tears from us ; however, we 
made the best of it, and endeavored to console one 
another the best we could ; but poor was that consola- 
tion, you may think. 

We had but just got over, when a scene presented it- 
self to us, enough to move the hardest heart in the Brit- 
ish army could they have seen it. This was a large 
boat-load of women and children on their way to 
Charlestown, as that place promised more safety than 
any other. They called at Mr. Smilie's, and staid a day 
or two. I pitied them all greatly, (though we were 
much in the same situation ;) one lady especially, who 
had seven children, and one of them but a fortnight old ; 
thus, in her weakly situation, to venture her life and 
that of her babe, rather than fall into the hands of an 
enemy, whose steps have been marked with cruelty and 
oppression. Surely, if the British knew the misery they 
occasion, they would abate their rigor, and blush to think 
that the name of Englishman, (once so famous among 
the Fair,) should now produce terror and dismay in every 
female breast. I'll now lay by my pen — Farewell. 

I will proceed by and bye with my narrative, for the 
various scenes I've been witness to are so much in my 



OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 15 

head, that I shall not want subjects to employ my pen for 
some time. 

Once more adieu. 

Eliza W, 



LETTER II. 

Report and alarms. Ladies become politicians. The Wadmalaw 
guard taken. Mrs. Wilkinson's return to her father. General 
Lincoln expected. Address to Hope. 

I RESUME the pen — but don't smile at my historical 
manner of relating matters of fact. I choose to be me- 
thodical, my dear, and begin with my fears and appre- 
hensions, and you shall have them all verified in due 
time and place. 

We staid over at Wadmalaw for some time. The ene- 
my were all around my Father's, but had not as yet been 
so complaisant as to visit him. The whole country was 
open to them. Nothing but women, a few a ; >d gentle- 
men, and (shame to tell) some skulking varlets, inhabit- 
ed it ; the latter, indeed, inhabited the dark recesses of 
the woods more than anywhere else, probably thinking 
so many huge trees might deaden a shot, should it hap- 
pen to pass that way. 



LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 17 

The poor women were in the greatest distress imagin- 
able. There was no hearing from Charlestown, where 
all our relations were ready to defend the town in case 
of an attack, and waiting for General Lincoln, Him, 
too, we could hear nothing about, unless from disaffected 
people and negroes, and they were always the most dis- 
heartening accounts that we did hear. Once we heard 
that the enemy had surrounded the town ; that they were 
at Wando, James's Island, and I don't know how many 
more islands ; however, it seemed that they had cut off 
all means of provision getting to town, and that our 
troops there were in a starving condition. 

Such reports as these were constantly circulated 
about, and half distracted the people. Some believed, 
others disbelieved. I was one of the unbelievers. How- 
ever, it was the constant topic of conversation. Some 
said one thing, some another ; and depend upon it, never 
were greater politicians than the several knots of ladies, 
who met together. All trifling discourse of fashions, 
and such low little chat was thrown by, and we com- 
menced perfect statesmen. Indeed, I don't know but if 
we had taken a little pains, we should have been qualified 
for prime ministers, so well could we discuss several im« 
portant matters in hand. 



18 LETTERS 

Many days were we in this cruel suspense, lamenting 
the situation we were in, and the report concerning our 
brethren in Charlestown. The l^ew persons who were 
at Wadmalavv began to waver ; some insisted it would 
be rash and foolish for them to make any resistance ; 
however, they turned out to watch the enemy's move- 
ments, and I believe had a shot or two at some of them ; 
but finding that they began to move in large parties to 
James's and John's Islands, they all repaired to their 
homes to wait the event. I can't say all, either ; some 
few, whose bodies were inhabited by true American souls, 
stood in opposition to the last, until they were unfortu- 
nately surprised one rainy night, when they were keeping 
guard, and fell into the enemy's hands. 

When I found how affairs stood in Wadmalaw, I took 
a melancholy leave of my sister, Mrs. Smilie, and re- 
turned to my Father's. But still I could hear nothing of 
our long. looked. for General. It was moving — in the 
highest degree distressing, to hear the cry re-echoed from 
every trembling mouth, " Where is Lincoln ?" but ra- 
ther, said I, Where's the Lord God of Israel ? Will he 
indeed deliver us into the hands of these Philistines ? 
No ; the upholding hand of God was visible ; for, though 
the whole country was open to the enemy, nothing but 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 19 

women and children left unprotected at home ; hus- 
bands, fathers, brothers, friends, and countrymen far 
away, where we could not have the least information of 
them ; yet we did not wholly despond, we trusted in more 
than feeble flesh and blood, and, though our troubles were 
great, our dependence was not in vain. 

At last my brothers, with the Willtown hunters, arriv- 
ed from Charlestown. Judge of our joy, augmented, too, 
by their assuring us that they had heard from Gen, 
Lincoln ; that he was hurrying to our assistance, and 
would soon be with us ! How we congratulated one 
another on these tidings ; we could now converse with 
cheerfulness, and take pleasure in each other's company ; 
the gloom, which had so lately darkened every object, 
seemed dispelled, and hope, smiling hope, succeeded. 

" Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here ; 
Passions of higher note befriend us less. 
Joy has her tears, — and transport has her death : 
Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, 
Our hearts at once enlivens, and serenes." 

Hope seems implanted in us. It is the foundation of 
happiness. The great Creator, knowing our weak, des- 
ponding natures, has endowed us with it to soothe, sof- 
ten, and heal the wounds of keen distress and anguish, 
and make us bear with fortitude the many misfortunes 



20 LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 

which attend humanity. Without this gentle, healing 
passion, dreadful despair would take possession of us ; 
and then, oh, what then, but misery unutterable ! What 
makes the infernal regions so hideous, but the loss of 
hope ? I have never considered this same Hope, nor 
seen it in the light I have lately done. It makes a kind 
of paradise on earth. Great, then, must be its qualities, 
which can find happiness in a soil whose chief produce 
is sorrow. 

Farewell ! my dear Mary. I am in a moralizing hu- 
mor, so I will lay down my pen, and induce reflection 
for awhile. I am very busy just now, so that my hands 
and thoughts will both be employed in work and con- 
templation. You will laugh, and say I am a contempla- 
tive mortal. Yes, by fits and starts ; a philosopher too, 
in my way ! Not of the sect of Stoics though. 1 do 
most heartily despise those insensible beings. They 
are a void in creation. Once more, adieu — Heaven 
bless you. 

Eliza W. 



LETTER III. 

Thoughts on peace. Mrs. Wilkinson retreats again from the 
river plantation at the approach of the enemy. Affecting inter- 
view with passing soldiers. The enemy kept off by a negro. 
British soldiers. A visit of plunder and insult on the 2d of 
June. Another on the 3d. A party of M'Girth's men arrive 
at the plantation. 

" Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, 
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, 
When first he spreads his orient beams 
On herb, tree, fruit, and flower, 
Glist'ning with dew," &c. &c. 

You see I am in a perfect rhapsody this morning ! — 
I've begun my song with the birds ; really all nature 
smiles ; these sons of plunder being driven away? has 
given life to every thing. O Peace ; smiling Peace ! 
when will you bless our land with your all-cheering pre- 
sence ? We want but the assurance of that, to make us 
a happy people. But, methinks the dear stranger begins 

3 



22 LETTERS 

to eye us askance ; I hope she will shortly stare us full 
in the face, and make glad our long-dejected hearts, 
with all her train of smiling attendants. 

****** 

But I must continue my narrative, and yet I'm loth to 
quit so agreeable a subject, to enter on one that was so 
shocking at the time, and indeed still so, — when I recall 
it to my " mind's eye." But it is some degree of satis- 
faction to look back on our sufferings, and congratulate 
ourselves on their being past, and that they were no 
worse when present. But I will proceed. 

As the enemy were moving over to the islands about 
us, Mr. Smilie quitted Wadmalaw with his family, and re- 
moved to a plantation of my Father's, on Stono road ; 
but he had not been there long before we heard they 
were encamped at Stono Ferry, not more than seven 
miles from either of my Father's places. This put us in 
a deplorable situation again ; I wanted to move more 
out of the way of them ; but surely, thought I, my Fa- 
ther's venerable aspect and grey hairs will excite com- 
passion at least, and Fve no husband to fight against 
them (though, by the bye, if I had one who refused to en- 
ter the field in his country's cause, I believe I should de- 
spise him from my soul.) Besides, says I, our weak sex, 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 23 

" incapable of wrong, from either side claims privilege 
of safety." That I quoted from some book or other by- 
way of consolation. Such vain thoughts pacified me 
for the present, (for vain they proved to be.) But after 
awhile, I could not think of staying at Father's, as he 
lived on the river, and we very often saw boat-loads of 
red-coats pass and repass ; so I went and staid with my 
sister at the plantation. She had another lady with her 
too ; one Miss Samuells. While we staid there, we used 
to see parties of our friends — mostly the Willtown hunt- 
ers, pass the avenue, towards Stono Ferry, where they 
rode daily in search of adventures, and would frequent- 
ly call on us. O ! how sweet, how comforting, the pre- 
sence of a friend in such distressing times ; especially 
those we look on as the protectors, the prop of their 
country. And yet, with a tender anxiety for their wel- 
fare, we beheld them ; the poorest soldier, who would 
call at any time for a drink of water, I would take a 
pleasure in giving it to him myself, and many a dirty 
ragged fellow have I attended, with a bowl of water, or 
milk and water ; and with the utmost compassion beheld 
their tattered raiment and miserable situation ; they real- 
ly merit every thing who will fight from principle alone ; 
for, from what I could learn, these poor creatures had 



24 LETTERS 

nothing to protect, and seldom get their pay ; and yet 
with what alacrity will they encounter danger and hard- 
ships of every kind ! 

All this time we had not seen the face of an enemy, 
not an open one — for I believe private ones were daily 
about. One night, however, upwards of sixty dreaded 
red-coats, commanded by Major Graham, passed our gate, 
in order to surprise Lieut. Morton Wilkinson at his own 
house, where they understood he had a party of men. 
A negro wench was their informer, and also their con- 
ductor ; but (thank heaven) some how or other they 
failed in their attempt, and repassed our avenue early 
in the morning, but made a halt at the head of it, and 
wanted to come up ; but a negro fellow, whom they had 
got at a neighbor's not far from us to go as far as the 
Ferry with them, dissuaded them from it, by say- 
ing it was not worth while, for it was only a planta- 
tion belonging to an old decrepit gentleman, who did 
not live there ; so they took his word for it, and pro- 
ceeded on. You may think how much we were alarm- 
ed when we heard this, which we did the next morning; 
and how many blessings the negro had from us for 
his consideration and pity. 

After this, we saw not any of our friends for a great 



OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 25 

while ; they had taken a different route to Willtown, 
Pon Pon, and other places ; where they heard the ne- 
groes were very unruly, and doing great mischief ; so 
they rode about from plantation to plantation, in order 
to quell them in time. We grew melancholy and unhap- 
py on our friends disappearing, and hourly expected un- 
welcome visitors ; but seeing nor hearing nothing of 
them, only that they were erecting forts at the Ferry, 
I began to be in hopes they would not be so free in ob- 
truding their company on us, as they had done else- 
where ; but at length the time arrived. The 2d of 
June, two men rode up to the house ; one had a green 
leaf, the other a red string in his hat ; this made us sus- 
pect them as spies (for we heard M'Girth's men wore 
such things in their hats.) They were very particular 
in their inquiries " if there were any men in the 
house ?" (Foolish fellows ! if there were, they would 
not have had time to have asked us that question.) — " If 
any had been there?" "No.'' "Did any go from here 
this morning ?" Impertinents, thought I ; do you think 
that we are bound to answer to all your interrogations ! 
but I must not say so. " Well," says one, " do you know 
Col. M'Girth will be along here presently with two hun- 
dred men ? You may expect him in an hour or two." 
3* 



26 LETTERS 

Ah ! thought I — I'd far rather (if I must see one) see 
old Beelzebub ; but here are some of his imps — the fore- 
runners of his approach. " Why," (said my friend, Miss 
Samuells,) *' if Col. M'Girth should come, I hope he 
wont act ungenteelly, as he'll find none but helpless wo- 
men here, who never injured him!" "O!" says one, 
" he'll only take your clothes and negroes from you." 
After a little farther chat, they rode off, leaving us in 
a most cruel situation, starting at every noise we heard, 
and dreading the enemy's approach. In the meanwhile 
Father and Mother had two visitors of the same class ; 
they persuaded Father to take a protection, but in vain ; he 
declined it — they then threatened him if he did not, but 
withall, assured him, that if he would, such a number of men 
should be with him to guard his property. " Then," says 
Father, " the Americans will send a greater, and how 
then ?" " Why, then you will have such a number," say 
they. But Father replied that, whatever number they'd 
send, the Americans would still send a greater, and their 
guard would be of no service to him. They then asked him 
if he'd heard of one M'Girth. " Yes, I've heard of such 
a person," says Father. " Did you ever hear any good 
of him ?" " Why, no, I can't say I have — people com- 
plain very much of him." " Well," say they, " if you 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 27 

don't take a protection, he'll plunder you of every thing 
— he'll be here presently." " I can't help it," was all the 
reply. 

Well, now comes the day of terror — the 3d of June. 
(I shall never love the anniversary of that day.) In 
the mbrning, fifteen or sixteen horsemen rode up to the 
house ; we were greatly terrified, thinking them the ene- 
my, but from their behavior, were agreeably deceived, 
and found them friends. They sat a while on their 
horses, talking to us ; and then rode off*, except two, who 
tarried a minute or two longer, and then followed the 
rest, who had nearly reached the gate. One of the said 
two must needs jump a ditch — to show his activity I sup- 
pose ; for he might as well, and better, have gone in the 
road. However, he got a sad fall ; we saw him, and 
sent a boy to tell him, if he was hurt, to come up to the 
house, and we would endeavor to do something for him. 
He and his companion accordingly came up ; he look'd 
very pale, and bled much ; his gun somehow in the fall, 
had given him a bad wound behind the ear, from whence 
the blood flowed down his neck and bosom plentifully : 
we were greatly alarmed on seeing him in this situation, 
and had gathered around him, some with one thing, some 
with another, in order to give him assistance. We were 



28 LETTERS 

very busy examining the wound, when a negro girl ran 
in, exclaiming — " O ! the king's people are coming, it 
must be them, for they are all in red." Upon this cry, 
the two men that were with us snatched up their 
guns, mounted their horses, and made off; but had 
not got many yards from the house, before the ene- 
my discharged a pistol at them. Terrified almost to 
death as I was, I was still anxious for my friends' 
safety ; I tremblingly flew to the window, to see if the 
shot had proved fatal : when, seeing them both safe, 
" Thank heaven," said I, *' they've got off without hurt !" 
I'd hardly utter'd this, when I heard the horses of the in- 
human Britons coming in such a furious manner, that 
they seemed to tear up the earth, and the riders at the 
same time bellowing out the most horrid curses imagin- 
able ; oaths and imprecations, which chilled my whole 
frame. Surely, thought I, such horrid language denotes 
nothing less than death ; but I'd no time for thought — 
they were up to the house — entered with drawn swords 
and pistols in their hands ; indeed, they rushed in, in the 
most furious manner, crying out, " Where're these women 
rebels ?" (pretty language to ladies from the once famed 
Britons /) That wa« the first salutation ! The moment 
they espied us, off went our caps, (I always heard say 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 29 

none but women pulled caps !) And for what, think you ? 
why, only to get a paltry stone and wax pin, which kept 
them on our heads ; at the same time uttering the most 
abusive language imaginable, and making as if they'd 
hew us to pieces with their swords. But it's not in my 
power to describe the scene : it was terrible to the last 
degree; and, what augmented it, they had several armed 
negroes with them, who threatened and abused us great- 
ly. They then began to plunder the house of every 
thing they thought valuable or worth taking ; our trunks 
were split to pieces, and each mean, pitiful wretch cram- 
med his bosom with the contents, which were our ap' 
parel, dec. &;c. &;c. 

I ventured to speak to the inhuman monster who had 
my clothes. I represented to him the times were such 
we could not replace what they'd taken from us, and 
begged him to spare me only a suit or two ; but I got 
nothing but a hearty curse for my pains ; nay, so far 
was his callous heart from relenting, that, casting his 
eyes towards my shoes, " I want them buckles," said he, 
and immediately knelt at my feet to take them out, which, 
while he was busy about, a brother villain, whose enor- 
mous mouth extended from ear to ear, bawled out " Shares 
there, I say ; shares." So they divided my buckles be- 



30 



LETTERS 



tween them. The other wretches were employed in the 
same manner ; they took my sister's ear-rings from her 
ears ; hers, and Miss Samuells's buckles ; they demand- 
ed her ring from her finger ; she pleaded for it, told them 
it was her wedding ring, and begged they'd let her keep it ; 
but they still demanded it, and, presenting a pistol at her, 
swore if she did not deliver it immediately, they'd fire. 
She gave it to them, and, after bundling up all their booty, 
they mounted their horses. But such despicable figures ! 
Each wretch's bosom stuffed so full, they appeared to be 
all afflicted with some dropsical disorder ; had a party 
of rebels (as they called us) appeared, we should soon 
have seen their circumference lessen. 

They took care to tell us, when they were going away, 
that they had favored us a great deal — that we might 
thank our stars it was no worse. But I had forgot to 
tell you, that, upon their first entering the house, one of 
them gave my arm such a violent grasp, that he left the 
print of his thumb and three fingers, in black and blue, 
which was to be seen, very plainly, for several days af- 
ter. I showed it to one of our officers, who dined with 
us, as a specimen of British cruelty. If they call this 
famr, what must their cruelties be ? It must want a 
name. To be brief; after a few words more, they rode 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 81 

off, and glad was I. " Good riddance of bad rubbish," 
and indeed such rubbish was I never in company with 
before. One of them was an officer too ! a sergeant, or 
some such, f^r he had the badge of lionor on his shoulders ! 
After they were gone, I began to be sensible of the dan- 
ger I'd been in, and the thoughts of the vile men seemed 
worse (if possible) than their presence ; for they came 
so suddenly up to the house, that I'd no time for thought ; 
and while they staid, I seemed in amaze ! Quite stupid ! 
I cannot describe it. But when they were gone, and I 
had time to consider, I trembled so with terror, that I 
could not support myself. I went into the room, threw 
myself on the bed, and gave way to a violent burst of grief, 
which seemed to be some relief to my fuil-swollen heart. 

For an hour or two I indulged the most melancholy 
reflections. The whole world appeared to me as a thea- 
tre, where nothing was acted but cruelty, bloodshed, and 
oppression ; where neither age nor sex escaped the hor- 
rors of injustice and violence ; where the lives and pro- 
perty of the innocent and inoffensive were in continual 
danger, and lawless power ranged at large. 

I was interrupted in these thoughts by hearing some- 
body cry out that there were a number of horsemen com- 
ing up the avenue. " Well," said I, <^ here are more 



32 LETTERS 

banditti coming ; but death will I suffer before I'll be 
cooped up in this house with them again ;" so out I went, 
my sister with me. Miss Samuells, having more resolu- 
tion, was determined to stay, and see who and what they 
were. First came up an old man and two others ; she 
went to the door. " If," said she, " you are friends, I 
beg you'll go away, unless you are able to protect us, 
for we have been used very ill to -day by a party who 
call themselves British dragoons, {dragons raiJier ;) but 
if you are enemies, I can assure you there's nothing 
left worth your taking, as the house was plundered this 
morning by the party I told you of." The above-men- 
tioned old man dismounted, and said he must see what 
was in the house for all that. " Well, go in and see." 
She walked out, and burst into tears ; called on my sis- 
ter and myself to come and endeavor to save what few 
things the British savages had left. These were a large 
party of M'Girth's men. When I saw they did not be- 
have in that outrageous manner the others had done, I 
ventured to approach the house, and went in. 

One of the men, seeing Miss Samuells quit the house, 
jumped from his horse, and swore we should have nothing 
more taken from us. He ran in, and brought the old 
man out by the shoulders, who declared vehemently that 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 83 

he had no intention of taking any thing from us ; and 
to prove that he would rather give, than take from us, he 
went to his horse, and loosing a great quantity of yarn, 
(which I dare say he had plundered,) brought it and 
gave it to my sister. One of them, who by his ap- 
pearance seemed superior to the rest, asked if " one 
Mrs. Wilkinson wa'nt there ?" They told him yes, 
and looking round to where I sat, he bent himself 
forward on his horse as if to see me. " Gracious hea- 
ven !" said I, " what can the man want by asking for 
me ?" I was ready to sink on the floor ; however, I put 
on as resolute an air as I could assume, and stepped for- 
ward with " Have you any thing to say to me, Sir ?" 
The man saw I was frightened'; he smiled. *^ How far 
is it, madam, from here to Mr. Morton ^Wilkinson's ?" 
" I really can't tell ; it's a great while since I've been 
there, and I hear he's got a new road to his house." He 
and another one spoke low. He then said, " But you can 
guess. Madam, how far it is ?" " Indeed, Sir, I can't." 
" We've orders," said he, "to burn that house." We all 
plead for it. 

" If you go there," said one of us, *« you can't find it 
in your heart to execute your orders ; there you'll find 

no less than seven small children j you could not be so 
4 



34 LETTEKS 

cruel as to turn them out of the house, sure." " Well," 
said he, " we wont go ; women and children can't help 
what the men do." " Very true," said I ; '' but yet you 
see the innocent suffer with those who are termed guil- 
ty. Come in the house, and see what destruction they've 
made !" They came in — expressed a great concern for 
us, and abused the Britons much. "Yes," said they, 
" we always bear the blame of these outrages ; but I'll 
assure you we take nothing from ladies. Men's apparel, 
horses, &;c. we do take ; but we wish not to distress wo- 
men, for they can't help what's done. Those fellows 
who robbed you this morning can't have any feeling for 
the fail- sex, I'm sure." (O rare ! thought I, here's 
" high life below stairs" in good earnest.) 

There was a man among them who would not come 
in, but staid just without the door. They kept their 
eyes on him as they spoke, with a smile of contempt. 
At last said one of them, " Ladies, do you know that 
man's face ?" (pointing towards him.) We looked at 
him — he seemed to avoid our eyes ; we soon recollected 
the wretch, and cried out, " He was among the dragoons 
in the morning." " Very true," said they, " he was so," 
and then shamed him. He was very sullen, and after 
that could not give us a good word ; whatever we would 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 35 

say, he would have some surly answer ready ; the others 
frowned at him, but that having no effect, they spoke 
to him, and asked " How could he behave in that man- 
ner to us ?" He was silent for some time after. 

One of them assured us, if we would let him know 
what we had lost, he would endeavor to get them for us 
again ; but as we did not want any more of their com- 
pany, we declined accepting their offer. He swore that 
as soon as he returned to camp, he would make a report 
of the usage we had received, and he was sure the men 
would suffer for it. (He was as good as his word, for 
we afterwards heard by some of our men, who were pri- 
soners at the Ferry, that the ill treatment we had met 
with was talked of throughout the camp there ; and af- 
terwards my sister saw the man who reported it. " Well, 
Madam," said he, " if it will be of any satisfaction to 
you, I can assure you I saw one of the men, who used 
you and the other ladies so ill, receive five hundred 
lashes for the same." So here was " the devil correct- 
ing sin.") 

" While the British soldiers were talking to us, some 
of the silent ones withdrew, and presently laid siege to 
a bee-hive, which they soon brought to terms : which 
the others perceiving, cried out, " Hand the ladies a plate 



do LETTERS 

of honey," — which was immediately done with officious 
haste, no doubt thinking they were very generous in 
treating us with our own. There were a few horses 
feeding in the pasture. They had them driven up. 
" Ladies, do either of you own these horses ?" " No ! 
they partly belong to Father and Mr. Smilie." " Well, 
Ladies, as they are not your property, we'll take them. 
It can't be injuring you, you know." The old man got 
on one. " Why," said Miss Samuels, *' that horse can 
do you no good, it is very ordinary." " No matter, 
Madam. I'll take a rebel's horse at any time." "Why," 
said she, " that poor old creature had better be at home. 
He can't be of any service to you." "I think so too," 
replied he ; " but it is no matter what becomes of him." 
'^Old man," continued she, " if that was a Tory's horse, 
would you take it ?" " Why, no !" *' Faith, old fellow," 
said one, *' I believe you do not mind Whig or Tory, so 
you get by it," 

" Ah, thought I, t believe you speak the sentiments of 
your whole army, from the highest officer to the lowest 
soldier." Nothing but the hope of raising themselves 
on the ruin of others, has induced them to engage in 
the war against us. I fear 'principle governs very few. 
Interest reigns predominant. 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 37 

Another poor, meagre looking mortal, with a wound 
in his shoulder, went into the kitchen, and fell to upon 
some rice. He told the negroes that he wished he had 
some meat ; and, if he was not afraid of distressing the 
ladies, he would ask them for some. I mention all these 
trifling circumstances that you may see with how much 
more humanity M'Girth's men treated us, to what the 
Britons did; yet we had a most dreadful account of 
his gang ; that they were worse than savages, and com. 
mitted every kind of outrage. But let every one have 
his due, and the merit of a good act. 

To tell the truth, they behaved to us more like friends 
than enemies, when they saw our distress. I do not 
know whether that moved them to pity, or what. They 
asked if there were any settlements near us. We told 
them there were ; and begged, if they went to Father's, 
they would treat him and his family well, and do nothing 
to distress them : for we heard that the dragoons had 
plundered his hou^e that morning, and insulted him very 
much. 

" We will not, ladies, we will not ; and had you thou- 
sands, we would not rob you of a shilling. But what's 
your Father's name ?" " Mr. Yonge." " Yong, Yong," 
said the before-mentioned busy old wretch ; '* ah, right, 
4* 



38 LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 

he is an old Rebel. Why, he is one of the Council." 
"You are quite wrong, good man." (I told a fib in the 
word good.) " My Father, besides his being a man in 
years, is very hard of hearing, and consequently un- 
fit for that office." ^' But go," said Miss Samuels, 
" if his grey hairs can't excite compassion, I do not 
know what will." Away they went to their horses, 
when one of them, turning round to me, says, " How 
far does — does, (he could not recollect my Father's 
name) does Father Grey-beard live from here?'' Pray hea- 
ven, thought I, neither you, nor any enemies to America, 
may live to deserve that appellation. The prayer sa- 
vored of cruelty, and was rather unchristian ; especial- 
ly as we are commanded to pray for our enemies, and 
to do good to those who despitefully use us and per- 
secute us. It is a hard lesson, and I forgot it at that 
instant, when indignation had taken possession of my 
heart. But I will here conclude. In my next you 
shall have the second part of British cruelty. Adieu, 
my dear. I am quite tired of this long letter ; but more 
of the subject. 

^ Eliza W. 



LETTER IV. 

Another body of troops visit Mr, Yonge's plantation. They insult 
and plunder the old people. 

I SEEM to have an inexhaustible fund just now for let- 
ter writing ; but it will amuse your leisure hours, and 
that hope encourages me to proceed. Without further 
preamble, I will present you with another scene, where 
my Father and Mother were spectators, and also suffer- 
ers. It was likewise on the 3d of June that my 
Father, with an old man who lived a few miles from 
him, and whose head was silvered o'er with age, (one Mr. 
Bryant,) was sitting in the Piazza, when they saw a par- 
ty of men — some in red, others in green, coming up to 
the house furiously ; the moment they arrived, they 
jumped from their horses, and ran into the house with 
drawn swords and pistols, and began to curse and abuse 
Father and the other man very much ; indeed, took his 
buckles from his shoes, searched his pockets, and took 



40 LETTERS 

all they found there ; they then went to search Mr. 
Bryant's pockets ; he threw his top jacket aside, and 
producing his under-one, " Here," said he, " I'm a poor 
old man," (he was so, sure enough.) They searched, 
but I believe found nothing, for by a lucky thought the 
" poor old man" saved several hundred pounds, by care- 
lessly casting aside his top jacket, as if it had no pock- 
ets in it. They then went in the rooms up and down 
stairs, demolished two sets of drawers, and took all they 
could conveniently carry off. One came to search Mo- 
ther's pockets too, (audacious fellow ! ) but she resolutely 
threw his hand aside. " If you must see what's in my 
pocket, I'll show you myself;" and she took out a thread - 
case, which had thread, needles, pins, tape, &;c. &c. The 
mean wretch took it from her. They even took her two 
little children's caps, hats, &c. &;c. ; and when they took 
Mother's thread, &c. she asked them what they did with 
such things, which must be useless to them ? '* Why, 
Nancy would want them." They then began to insult 
Father again in the most abusive manner. " Aye," says 
one, " I told you yesterday how you'd be used if you did 
not take a protection ! But you wouhl not hear me ; you 
would not do as I told you, now you see what you have 
got by it." "Why," said Mother, in a jeering way, " is 



LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 41 

going about plundering women and children, taking the 
State ?" " 1 suppose you think you are doing your king 
a great piece of service by these actions, which are very 
noble, to be sure ; but you are mistaken—'twill only en- 
rage the people ; I think you'd much better go and fight 
the men, than go about the country robbing helpless wo- 
men and children ; that would be doing something." ' 
"O ! you are all, every one of you, rebels ! and, old fel- 
low," (to Father,) "I have a great mind to blow my pis. 
tol through your head." Another made a pass at him, 
(inhuman monsters — I have no patience to relate it,) 
with his sword, swearing he had " a great mind," too, 
to run him through the body. 

What callous. hearted wretches must these be, thus to 
treat those who rather demanded their protection and 
support. Grey hairs have always commanded respect 
and reverence until now ; but these vile creatures choose 
the aged and helpless for the objects of their insults and 
barbarity. But what, think you, must have been my 
Father's feelings at the time ! used in such a manner, 
and not having it in his power to resent it ; what a pain- 
ful conflict must at that instant have filled his breast. He 
once or twice, (I heard him say afterwards,) was on the 
verge of attempting to defend himself and property | 



42 LETTERS 

his breast was torn with the most violent agitations ; but 
when he considered his helpless situation, and that cer- 
tain death must ensue, he forbore, and silently submit- 
ted to their revilings and insults. It reminds me of 
poor old Priam, King of Troy, when he says, 

" As for my sons ! I thank ye, Gods— 'twas well — 
Well — they have perished, for in fight they fell. 
Who dies in youth and vigor, dies the best, 
Cover'd with wounds, all honest, on the breast, 
But when the Fates, in fury of their rage, 
Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, 
This, this is misery, the last, the worst, 
That man can feel — man fated to be curst." 

I think those are the lines ; it is a great while since I 
read them. 

But to proceed. After drinking all the wine, rum, 
&c. they could find, and inviting the negroes they had 
with them, who were very insolent, to do the same ; they 
went to their horses, and would shake hands with Father 
and Mother before their departure. Did you ever hear 
the like ? Fine amends, to be sure ! a bitter pill cover- 
ed with gold, and so a shake of the hand was to mSke 
them ample satisfaction for all their sufferings ! But the 
*' iron hand of Justice" will overtake them sooner or 
later. Though slow, it is sure. 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 43 

After they were gone, poor old Bryant began to bless 
his stars for saving his money, and to applaud himself 
for his lucky invention ; he was too loud with it ; Father 
admonished him to speak lower, for, should any of the ser- 
vants about the house hear him, and another party come, 
he might stand a chance to lose it after all ; but still the 
old man kept chatting on, when lo ! another company 
of horsemen appeared in view : the poor soul was panic- 
struck, he looked aghast, and became mute : these were 
M'Girth's men, who had just left us. They did not be- 
have quite so civil to Mother as they did to us ; for 
they took sugar, flour, butter, and such things from 
her ; but not much. These particulars I had from Mo- 
ther. And now, my dear, I'll conclude here ; I expect 
company to spend the day, so will defer ending my long 
story till the next leisure hour, and will then have an- 
other epistolary chat with you. Adieu. 

Eliza. 



LETTER V, 

JReflections on life. An odd mistake of Mrs. Wilkinson's. Col. 
Malmady. 

What a world of vicissitudes is this ! The scenes 
continually changing ! It reminds me of a little toy I 
'had once : it was a box with a glass on one side, and by 
turning a handle, which was fixed in one end, a variety 
of pictures passed beneath the glass, one continually 
succeeding another. Some were pleasing, others fright- 
ful : one would exhibit a beautiful landscape ; directly 
would follow what was meant for an image of Satan, 
with his infernal crew ; another would represent the 
fine appearance of a " liquid plain," where vessels and 
pleasure-boats were sailing, and on whose banks the in- 
habitants of the villas (scattered in view) were walking 
or fishing ; the next would present the sea in a violent 
storm, and vessels going to wreck by the tempest, with 



LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 45 

the passengers, mariners, &c. clinging to broken masts, 
boxes, casks, dec. Don't you think this a picture of 
the world we live in ? 

"Alternately transported and alarm'd — 
Triumphantly distress'd — what joy ! what dread !" 

And yet how delighted are we with this same world ! 
We shrink at the very thought of quitting it ; we arc 
more taken up with the pleasures it affords, (fleeting as 
they are,) than disgusted with the dangers and deceits 
with which it abounds. But you will conclude I've turn- 
ed quaker, and the spirit has just moved me to preach 
you a sermon on the instability of sublunary enjoy- 
ments. If I should, my text shall be the fourth chapter 
of Ecclesiastes, 1st and 2d verses — '* So I considered 
all the oppressions that are done under the sun ; and be- 
hold, the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had 
no comforter ; and on the side of their oppressors, there 
was power i but they had no comforter, wherefore I prais- 
ed the dead, which are already dead, more than the liv- 
ing, which are yet alive." What say you to my text 1 
Is it not very suitable to the present times ? But I've 
forgot the narration I was to continue. Strange I 



46 LETTERS 

should, when it is the most agreeable part ; but it had 
its sorrows too, as you shall hear. 

After having so many unwelcome visitors, we began 
to wonder what had become of our friends. Here, said 
I, they have left us to the mercy of those we despise : 
they have just given us a sight of themselves, and then 
withdrawn, which makes their absence more painful. 
We could neither eat, drink, nor sleep in peace ; for as 
we lay in our clothes every night, we could not enjoy 
the little sleep we got. The least noise alarmed us ; up 
we would jump, expecting every moment to hear them 
demand admittance. In short, our nights were wearisome 
and painful ; our days spent in anxiety and melancholy. 

After a night passed as usual, (in fear and trembling,) 
we rose ; my sister and Miss Samuells left the room be- 
fore me ; and when they went out, six or seven horse- 
men rode up to the door. They knew them to be a par- 
ty of our men, as they had been there once before. 
They told them how we had been used by the enemy ; 
begged them to hurry away, for the enemy were out 
every day in large parties, and should they come across 
them, they would be certainly taken. They smilingly 
answered, " We are enough for them ;" and without say- 
ing any thing more, rode off. Being told breakfast was 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 4T 

on table, I was coming out of the chamber, with my 
eyes fixed out of the window, (for I was always on the 
watch,) when I observed something glitter through a thin 
part of the wood which bordered on the road. I made 
a stop, and looked more attentively ; when I soon per- 
ceived it to be a large body of men on the march, for 
their guns kept a continual glitter. They came from 
the ferry-way, where the enemy were encamped, which 
made me conclude they were the whole British army 
coming out against our worthy General; for there 
seemed such a train, and the glitter of their arms appear- 
ed so terrible, I was struck with horror at the sight. — 
Their number through the woods appeared innumerable. 
" O !" exclaimed I, in wild affright, " yonder are thou- 
sands — tens of thousands of the cruel enemy !" All in 
the house, both whites and blacks, took the alarm at my 
outcry. Never was there such a scene of confusion. — 
Sighs, complaints, wringing of hands — one running here, 
another there, spreading the dreadful tidings ; and in a 
little time the Negroes in the field came running up to 
the house with a hundred stories. Table, tea-cups, all 
the breakfast apparatus, were immediately huddled to- 
gether and borne off ; and we watched sharply to see 
which way the enemy (as we supposed them to be) took. 



43 LETTERS 

But, O horrible ! in a minute or two we saw our avenue 
crowded with horsemen in uniform. Said I, " That 
looks like our uniform, blue and red ;" but I immediately 
recollected to have heard that the Hessian uniform was 
much like ours : — so out of the house we went, into an 
out-house. Upward of forty or fifty horsemen came up. 
As they were very still and orderly, (which was uncom- 
mon in the Britons, at least all who had visited us,) we 
thought it best to go and see who they really were. 
Accordingly we went, with fear and trembling. — Great 
part of them had quitted their horses, and got under the 
shade of a large tree just before the house door. We 
went up to them, and began to ask some questions, when 
an officer came riding up, most of his dress scarlet ; then 
was I assured it must be an enemy ; but, looking up the 
avenue, I was half distracted to see it thronged with 
foot-soldiers. " O !" said 1, addressing myself to the of- 
ficer, out of breath with terror, "who — what are those ?" 
pointing to the soldiers. "Be not alarmed. Madam, 
they are our men." Ah, thought I, that is what alarms 
me ; were they Americans, I should be happy. Just at 
that juncture, a Negro woman came up, and tapped me 
gently on the shoulder. " Mistress," whispered she, " 1 
don't like these men ; one of them gave me this piece of 



OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 49 

silver for some milk ; and I know our people don't have 
so much silver these times ; at least they don't part with 
it." I thought her remark just, and my suspicions were 
confirmed. 

I then turned around. I looked with horror on the 
officers and men, as on so many butchers of my country, 
men and friends. I wrung my hands. I could no long- 
er contain myself. " O Heavens !" cried I aloud, " I 
wish I was on some desert island ; but anywhere rather 
than here." The men started and whispered. I hardly 
knew what 1 said. " Why, Madam," said the officer, 
whose dress was mostly scarlet, " do you distress your- 
self so ? If you think you can be more secure anywhere 
else, and choose to go, a party of horse shall conduct 
you." — And what was my reply, think you, to his kind 
offer ? Why, quite destitute of all politeness or respect. 
" I want none of your horse," looking in his face and 
wringing my hands, and going two or three steps back- 
wards to get farther from him ; for I was sure of his be- 
ing a British officer, and conceited he had the most 
fierce and terrible countenance I ever beheld, (excepting 
the wretches who robbed me,) and dreaded him more 
than any of the rest. He kept talking to me, endeavor- 
ing to pacify me, but all in vain ; he might as well have 
5* 



60 • LETTERS 

bid the ocean be calm in a tempest. The more he spoke, 
the more I feared him, and the more vehement were my 
expressions of anxiety. At last he seemed fretted that I 
would not hear him. — He walked a little way, and re- 
turning, whispered to another officer. I was all ear, 
then, and just heard the last of his speech, which was — 
" There's several of them out yonder now," making a 
small motion with his hand towards the place. I im- 
mediately concluded that those he spoke of were the be- 
fore-mentioned small party of our friends, who had not 
long left us. I then ventured to approach him with, 
" Tell me, I beg you, tell me what you are going about." 
He smilingly answered, " Don't be frightened, Madam." 
But that answer would not do. " I tell you what," said 
T, " don't fight here : for God's sake, don't fight here ; 
I can't bear a sight so shocking." " Don't be alarmed, 
Madam ; don't terrify yourself," was all the reply. 

Looking around me, I found we were surrounded by 
men, and more still coming up the avenue, which in- 
creased my concern. Another officer, riding up and see- 
ing our distress, attributed it to the unusual sight of so 
many men and horses ; for none of them in the least sus- 
pected our thoughts. " Take away these horses," said 
he, "and move; you create distress." He spoke this 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 51 

in broken English. Well, thought I, there being ene- 
mies is past all doubt ; for that is a Hessian officer to be 
sure. The sun being very warm, and I much disordered, 
I moved towards the house, which, upon entering, I found 
crowded with officers. I made a full stop, and the only 
salutation they received was a nod of the head. I am 
sure they must have thought me an ill-bred, awkward 
creature. I walked to a chair — sat down — got up again 
— then resumed my seat. I scarce knew what I did. 
Several of the officers strove to pacify me. I gave them 
no answer. At length the one I dreaded so much (for 
his scarlet and fierce look) entered the house, and began 
to comfort me. He took my hand — I withdrew it. My 
whole thoughts were with Gen. Lincoln and his army. 
Any thing would I have given to have known if they 
knew of the Britons (as I thought) coming out against 
them. 

My sister and Miss Samuells did not suspect them as 
much as I did ; that is, they were not so sure, for I had no 
opportunity of giving them my reasons, which I thought 
very substantial. Miss Samuells chatted to them very 
freely, telling how we were robbed, and other things, 
which I thought best let alone. They seemed very at- 
tentive. Thought I, they are now on the watch for 



52 LETTERS 

some unguarded expression that she may let fall, whereby 
they might gather information of something or other 
they want to know. I was so vexed with her for hold- 
ing such an unrestrained conversation with them, that 
I could have found in my heart to have punished her for 
it. 

One of the officers asked her something, I forget what ; 
but she could not give him a direct answer, so referred 
him to me. " I know nothing about it," said I ; at the 
same time giving her a most expressive look, with a frown. 
I was determined they should know nothing from me, let 
the consequence be what it would ; for I did not seem to 
fear them on my own account : all my concern was 
that Gen. Lincoln knew nothing of their approach. 

Now entered the man whom I supposed to be a Hessian 
officer ; he got pen, ink, and paper, and went into the 
room, where he scribbled away for some time. The 
room door was wide open, and he sat right before it ; 
looking up and seeing me, he bowed, and begged I'd step 
there a little. I had a great mind not to comply — but I 
will see what he is about with his pen, thought I ; so I 
went to him. " How far. Madam, (in broken English) is 
it from here to the river?" « Not very far, Sir." " But 
how many miles ?" " I can't rightly guess." " Could 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 53 

you tell the distance from this place to Stono Ferry ?" 
"I cannot, indeed." He stopped and mused, putting 
down his pen. 

Man, thought I, you will not find me so very ready to 
answer your round-about questions as you may think for ; 
I will sooner bite my tongue off, than designedly or inad- 
vertently betray my friends and countrymen ; short an- 
swers can't lead me astray, and no others shall you get from 
me. He took up his pen again. — " But you can tell the 
distance from here to Gen. Lincoln's camp ?" " I do not 
know rightly where his camp is, so can give you no infor- 
mation." Ay, thought I, I now see what all your ques- 
tions tended to ; you are now come to the point, but you 
shall not be the wiser for me, I can tell you that ! I turn- 
ed about to go out of the room, but 1 found he was not to 
be put off so. " If you have a sensible fellow, madam, I'd 
be glad if you would send one here." Ah ! said I softly, 
now all is over indeed. In the meanwhile somebody, I do 
not know who, sent in Father's waiting man, who had just 
been sent to us. Ruined and undone ! said I to myself; 
this Negro knows every thing. He then asked him all 
the questions he had asked me, but more particular ; and 
as he answered, the officer wrote it down. Then was I 
more distressed than ever ; a thousand distracting thoughts 






54 LETTERS 

came into my head, such as these : — Gen. Lincoln knows 
nothing of the enemy's approach, nor their real strength ; 
they may be much stronger than he thinks them to be ; 
and now that he does not expect them, they may be en- 
deavoring to overcome him by surprise and stratagem. 

By this man's being so very particular in his inquiries, 
and writing down all the information he gets, it may be 
with a design to send large bodies of men to different 
places. In case our army (being attacked when they do 
not expect it,) should be obliged to retreat, they may be 
taken in ambush by some one of their large bodies sta- 
tioned in different places for that purpose. Then ima* 
gination presented our army to view, all carelessly reclin- 
ed and at their ease, little expecting the enemy would 
make, or that they were strong enough to make, so daring 
an attempt ; while all of a sudden numbers would pour in 
upon them from every quarter : then, thought I, will they 
*< die as a fool dieth," not avenging themselves or falling 
gloriously, but '4ike sheep for the slaughter." O! how 
the thought distressed me ! I traversed the room, think- 
ing if I could not by some means prevent this great evil, 
(don't laugh at me). If I had but a faithful trusty messen- 
ger, I would write the General immediately of what is go- 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 55 

ing forward, that he may be prepared to give them a 
good drubbing. 

While I was busy thinking, the Negro, who had given 
me so much unhappiness by his information, came to me, 
and told me that some of the officers had asked him if 
they could not have something for themselves and men 
to eat, and asked me if he should fetch up two or three 
beeves. I was quite fretted at the sight of him. " I 
don't care what you do, nor what becomes of you," said 
I, (I never was so cross in my life,) several officers in 
hearing. I then turned to my dismal thoughts again, 
when Miss Samuells and my sister interrupted me. I 
told them my fears, and they were very serious about 
them too. After a little discourse we went into the hall ; 
just as I entered it, I observed the officer, who had taken 
so much pains to pacify me, rise from his chair, take his 
sword in his hand, and look very earnestly up the road ; 
my eyes followed his, and saw one or two horsemen gal- 
loping up to the house ; I knew them. Now, thought I, 
those poor souls mistake these for friends, and are riding 
up with the greatest confidence that can be ; but surely 
they would not venture, without being sure who they 
were ! I then began to be divided in my opinion con* 
cerning them, and could no longer contain myself; but 



56 



LETTERS 



running up to the officer, laid hold of his arm. Miss 
Samuells got hold of the other, crying, " O tell us, tell us, 
whether you are friends, or what ?" 

The man gazed upon us with astonishment, (as indeed 
all the rest did ; well they might.) " Why, whom do you 
call friends ?" said he. " O, Americans ! Americans !" we 
replied. " I am, I am an American," (taking us in his 
arms.) " We are all friends. Good God ! could I have 
thought you suspected us as the enemy all this time, 
which distressed you so !" (and he seemed quite affected.) 
And now for a metamorphosis, comparable to any of the 
famed Ovid's. This man, who but a moment before ap- 
peared to me so terrible, all of a sudden was transform- 
ed to one of the most agreeable, best-looking men I had 
seen a great while : 

" He was, to my conceiving-, 
The cheerfullest, best, bravest hero, livmg." 

I then looked round with delight upon my friends and 
countrymen ; " my eyes took pleasure to behold them." I 
thought it high time to apologize for my rude behavior, 
which I accordingly did ; telling them, that as I had not 
for along time seen the face of a friend, I feared they had 
all forsaken us, and they, coming up in such a body, and 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 57 

from the ferry-way too, I concluded they must be the 
dreaded enemy. 

I particularly excused myself to Major Moore, for my 
rudeness to him in return for the polite attention he paid 
me, I begged pardon of them all for mistrusting them 
as I had done, and exclaimed to Maj. Moore, " O Major, 
that red ! that hated scarlet, (pointing to his clothes,) 
made me suspect you as a British officer, and we have 
been used so cruelly by Red Coats, that I shall never love 
the color again." "Well," said he, -'you shall never 
more see me in this terrible red. But we have mistaken 
each other ; you mistook us for Britons, and your dis- 
tress at sight of us made me conclude we had got in some 
Tory Family, and that we were very unwelcome visitors. 
We began to wish ourselves away." — They then laughed 
heartily at me for my fright, saying, " That they really 
expected, by the time I had done wringing my hands,. I 
would have no skin left upon them ; but now they knew 
the reason, they no longer wondered, and were happy to 
find us at last pacified and easy." 

I was quite elated to see such a number of friends all 
about me ; and you may believe it or not, but every word 
they said, though ever so trifling, was music in my ear. 
After the harsh thunder of an enemy's voice, denouncing 



58 LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 

death and destruction, no wonder that the gentle language 
of a friend should be harmony, O yes, it was music of 
the softest and most soothing kind. I felt my bosom 
glow with gratitude, with affection, for ray countrymen. 
I cannot describe my sensations, but I felt somehow Ufted 
'^up above myself, if I may so express it. 

After a little conversation, I found him whom I had 
taken for a Hessian officer to be Col. Malmady, a brave 
Frenchman. The brave and worthy, of what nation so- 
ever, claim our esteem and respect. I regard merit 
wherever I find it, and hope I shall never let passion or 
prejudice bias me, or make me blind to worth, in what- 
ever breast it may be found ; nor would I have you think, 
that whenever I express a concern or affection for my 
countrymen, I mean only those who are really so ! No. 
All such as interest themselves in the American cause, 
and defend their rights and privileges, are my countrymen. 
Do you think I am right? Pray, let me have your 
opinion. Eliza W. 



LETTER VI. 

Major Moore's thoughts on liberty. Incidents. M'Girth's men 
again. Mrs. W. obliged to return to her father's. Incidents on 
the way. 

After various discourses, the conversation took a turn 
on the subject of the present war. I was proud to hear 
my friends express themselves in a manner not unworthy 
of their coun?ry. Maj. Moore made a comparison, 
which, as I perfectly remember, I will give you. Your 
opinion is also required of the same. 

"Suppose," said he, "I had a field of wheat, upon 
these conditions, that out of that field I was to give so 
much to a certain person yearly ; well, I think nothing 
of it, I give it cheerfully, and am very punctual ; it goes 
on thus for some years ; at length the person sends me 
word I must let him have so much more, for he wants it; 
still I comply with cheerfulness. The next year he 
requires a still larger supply, and tells me he cannot do 
without it. This startles me ! I find him encroaching. 



60 LETTERS 

by little and little, on my property. I make some diffi- 
culty in complying ; however, as he says ' he cannot do 
without it,' I let him have it, though I see it hurts me ; 
but it puts me on my guard. Well, things go on so 
for some time ; at length he begins again, and at last 
seems to have a design of taking my whole field. Then 
what am I to do ? — Why, if I give it up, I am ruined, I 
must lie at his mercy. Is not this slavery? For my 
part," continued he, " I would rather explore unknown 
regions, blessed with" liberty, than remain in my native 
country if to be cursed with slavery." 

The land of Liberty ! how sweet the sound ! enough to 
inspire cowardice itself with a resolution to confirm the 
glorious title, " the land of Liberty." Let me again re- 
peat it — how enchanting ! It carries every idea of hap- 
piness in it, and raises a generous warmth in every 
bosom capable of discerning its blessings. O ! Americans 
— Americans ! strive to retain the glorious privilege 
which your virtuous ancestors left you ; " it is the price 
of blood;" and let not the blood of your brave country- 
men, who have so lately (in all the States) died to defend 
it, be spilt in vain. Pardon this digression, my dear 
Mary — my pen is inspired with sympathetic ardor, and 
has run away with my thoughts before I was aware, I 



OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 61 j. 

do not love to meddle with political matters ; the men 
say we have no business with them, it is not in om* 
sphere ! and Homer (did you ever read Homer, child ?) 
gives us two or three broad hints to mind our domestic 
concerns, spinning, weaving, &;c. and leave affairs of 
higher nature to the men ; but I must beg his pardon — I 
won't have it thought, that because ^we are the weaker 
sex as to bodily strength, my dear, we are capable o f 
nothing more than minding the dairy, visiting the 
poultry-house, and all such domestic concerns; our 
thoughts can soar aloft, we can form conceptions of 
things of higher nature ; and have as just a sense of 
honor, glory, and great actions, as these " Lords of 
the Creation." What contemptible earth worms these 
authors make us ! They won't even allow us the liberty 
of thought, and that is all I want. I would not wish 
that we should meddle in what is unbecoming female de- 
licacy, but surely we may have sense enough to give our 
opinions to commend or discommend such actions as 
we may approve or disapprove ; without being reminded 
of our spinning and household affairs as the only mat- 
ters we are capable of thinking or speaking of with just- 
ness or propriety. I won't allow it, positively won't. 
Homer has a deal of morality in his works, which is 



k 



62 LETTERS 

worthy of imitation; his Odyssey abounds with it. But 
I will leave Homer to better judges, and proceed in my 
narration. 

While the officers were there discoursing, word was 
brought that a party of the enemy were at a neighbor- 
ing plantation, not above two miles off, carrying provi- 
sions away. In an instant the men were under arms, 
formed and marched away to the place. We were dread- 
fully alarmed at the first information, but, upon seeing 
with what eagerness our friends marched off, and what 
high spirits they were in, we were more composed, but 
again relapsed into our fears when we heard the discharge 
of fire-arms ; they did not stay out long ; but returned 
with seven prisoners, four whites and three blacks. When 
they came to the door, we looked out, and saw two of 
M'Girth's men with them, who had used us so ill ; my 
heart relented at sight of them, and I could not for- 
bear looking at them with an eye of pity. Ah ! thought 
I, how fickle is fortune ! but two days ago these poor 
wretches were riding about as if they had nothing to 
fear, and terrifying the weak and helpless by their ap- 
pearance ; now, what a humbled appearance do they 
make ! But, basely as they have acted in taking up arms 
against their country, they have still some small sense 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 63 



left that they were once Americans, but now no longer 
so, for all who act as they do, forfeit that name ; and by 
adopting the vices of those they join, become one with 
them ; but these poor creatures seem to have yet remain- 
ing some token of what they once were — else why did 
they, last Thursday, behave so much better to us than 
the Britons did, when we were equally as much in their 
power as we were in the others' ? I will let them see I 
have not forgot it. I arose, and went out to them. " I 
am sorry, my friends, (I could not help calling them 
friends when they were in our power,) to see you in this 
situation, you treated us with respect ; and I cannot but 
be sorry to see you in distress." " It is the fortune of 
war. Madam, and soldiers must expect it." " Well, you 
need not make yourselves uneasy ; I hope Americans 
won't treat their prisoners ill. Do, my friends, (to the 
soldiers) use these men well — they were friendly to us." 
" Yes, Madam," said they ; " they shall be used well if it 
was only for that." I asked if they would have any thing 
to drink. Yes, they would be glad of some water. I 
had some got, and as their hands were tied, I held the 
glass to their mouths ; they bowed, and were very thank- 
ful for it. I was so busy, I did not observe the officers 
in the house ; several of them were at the door and win- 



64 LETTERS 

dow, smiling at me, which, when I perceived, I went in 
and told them how it was. They promised that the men 
should be favored for their behavior to us. " Madam,' ' 
said one, " you would make a bad soldier ; however, if 
I was of the other party, and taken prisoner, I should 
like to fall into your hands." I smiled a reply, and the 
conversation took another turn. 

In the meanwhile Miss Samuells was very busy about 
a wounded officer who was brought to the house (one 
of M'Girth's :) he had a ball through his arm ; we could 
find no rag to dress his wounds, every thing in the house 
being thrown into such confusion by the plunderers ; but 
(see the native tenderness of an American !) Miss Sa- 
muells took from her neck the only remaining handker- 
chief the Britons had left her, and with it bound up his 
arm ! Blush, O Britons, and be confounded ! your delight 
is cruelty and oppression ; divested of all humanity, you 
imitate savages ; neither age nor sex can move compas- 
sion ; even the smiling babe suffers by your hands, and 
innocently smiles at its oppressor. The Americans are 
obliged to commit unavoidable acts of cruelty ; the de- 
fence of their country requires it ; you seek their lives 
and liberties, and they must either kill or be killed ; yet, 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 65 

(imitating the all-merciful Creator,) " In the midst of 
anger, they remember mercy." 

" And will Omnipotence neglect to save 
The suffering virtues of the wise and brave'? " 

No ; I cannot think we shall be overcome while we act 
with justice and mercy — those are the attributes of hea- 
ven. If our cause is just, as it certainly appears to be, 
we need not doubt success ; an Almighty arm has visibly 
supported us; or a raw, undisciplined people, with so 
many disadvantages too on their side, coulo' never have 
withstood, for so long a time, an army which has re- 
peatedly fought and conquered, and who are famed for, 
or rather were famed, for their valor and determined 
bravery ; but now their glory is fallen, and, thank heaven, 
we are their equals, if not their superiors in the field. I 
have somewhere read that " vice was the greatest coward 
in the world, when it knows it will be resolutely opposed ;" 
and what have good men, engaged in a right cause, to 
fear ? When they embarked for America, they were 
sure of success ; for they expected no opposition from a 
people so little skilled in arms, and who had no expe- 
rience in the art of war ; but to their cost they found, 
that those who have a true sense of their rights and li. 



66 



LETTERS 



berties, will "conquer difficulties by daring to oppose 

them." 

" Heaven's blessings always wait on virtuous deeds, 
And though a late — a sure reward succeeds." 

Let me read what I have written — my pen is quite 
unmanageable this morning. I had determined not to 
make a digression or observation, and before I am aware, 
it flies from matters of fact or plain narration, and in- 
troduces my poor opinion on the stage. What will the 
men say if they should see this ? I am really out of my 
sphere now, and must fly to Homer for direction and 
instruction on household matters. Begone, pen ; I must 
throw you by until I can keep you in proper order. In 
good time have I discarded it ; for I am this moment 
called to breakfast. Adieu — -another message ! Coming 
' — coming. — '* Surely, you would not have me break my 
neck down stairs for a breakfast." 

Well, I obeyed the summons to breakfast, worked with 
my needle, visited ; and now again take up my pen ; for 
in the mornings, that is, from sunrise until 8 o'clock, I 
indulge myself in reading and writing. After that hour 
I meddle with neither. But let me see ! where did I 
leave off*? O ! I left at Miss Samuells' parting with her only 
handkerchief — don't you think her a good girl ? 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 67 

After dinner our friends began to move towards camp ; 
my brother persuaded us not to stay an hour longer, for 
the enemy, upon hearing what had been done, might 
come out, and use us worse than they had done already. 
Father had the same thoughts, and sent for us ; but hav- 
ing not a horse left, he only sent umbrellas to shelter us 
from the sun, which was exceedingly warm. My sister 
packed up a few things, and gave the Negroes to carry, 
and then we went off. Hard case to us, who had never been 
used to walking, to walk three long'miles in a hot summer's 
day ; and in such danger too, for as a party of the ene- 
my had just been routed, we did not know but some of 
them might be lurking about the woods, and the road we 
were obliged to go was very much frequented by them, 
so that we walked along with heavy hearts. If we had 
let the officers know we were going, we should have 
done very well ; but we had not concluded on it until they 
were gone. Two of Father's Negro men attended us, 
armed with great clubs ; one walked on before, the other 
behind, placing us in the centre. 

It was not long before our guard had some use for 
their clubs ; we were crossing a place they call the Sands, 
when one of the enemy's Negroes came out of the woods. 
He passed our advance guard with nothing but the loss 



68 LETTERS 

of his smart Jocky cap, which was snatched from his 
head. He turned round, and muttering something, then 
proceeded on ; when, attempting to pass our rear-guard, 
he was immediately levelled to the earth ; he arose, and 
attempted to run off, when he received another blow, 
which again brought him down. I could not bear the 
sight of the poor wretch's blood, which washed his face 
and neck ; it affected me sensibly. " Enough, Joe ! 
enough," cried I ; '• don't use the creature ill, take him at 
once, I wont have him beaten so." "Let me alone. 
Mistress, I'll not lay hand on him till I have stunned him ; 
how do I know but he has a knife, or some such thing 
under his clothes, and when I go up to him, he may stab 
me. No, no, — I know Negroes' ways too well." With 
that he fetched him another blow. I was out of all pa- 
tience ; I could not help shedding tears. I called out 
again ; " Inhuman wretch, take the Negro at once, he 
cannot hurt you now if he would ; you shall not — I de- 
clare you shall not beat him so." With that he took 
him, tied his hands behind him, and gave him to the fel- 
low who went before ; he himself stayed behind with us; 
but the poor wretch was sadly frightened. The fellow 
who had him in custody, walked on very fast, but he kept 
k)oking back on us. At last he said to me, " Do, Mistress, 



OP ELI8A WILKINSON. 69 

let me walk by you* " " Don't be afraid," said I, " they 
shan't hurt you again, I wont let them." But he looked 
on me so pitifully — his head continually turning round 
towards me, with such terror in his countenance, that I 
felt for the poor creature, and, to make him easy, walk- 
ed, or rather ran, close behind him ; for, to keep up with 
them I was obliged to go in a half run, the fellow who 
had hold of him walking at a great rate, for fear of be- 
ing overtaken by the enemy. 

I was ready to faint ; the exercise and extreme heat 
of the sun overcame me ; but I would not quit the unhap- 
py wretch as he claimed my protection, and my pre- 
sence seemed some alleviation to his misery ; so on i 
went, scarce able to support myself. I had got on a 
great way ahead of my sister and Miss Samuells, when I 
heard a confused noise, which, echoing in the wood«, 
sounded like lamentations ; my heart was at my mouth, 
"I'm afraid we are pursued," cried I; "I think I hear 
my sister and Miss Samuells crying !" The noise in- 
creased ; I made a stop, and was ready to sink to the 
earth : the Negro, who had the prisoner in custody, heard 
what I said, and hearing the noise also, took it for grant, 
ed that we were pursued, quitted his charge, and was 

making off. I was then some distance behind, for not a 
7 



70 LETTERS 

step could I take after the stop I made ; when looking, I 
saw the prisoner standing alone in the path, watching 
the road very sharply, as if expecting a speedy deliver- 
ance. I then found my tongue ; for, thought I, if the 
enemy should find the Negro in such a bloody condition, 
they would use us very ill. I called out as loud as I 
was able to the absconding fellow — '* Stop, this moment, 
and take that Negro ; make all the haste you can with 
him home, and keep him out of the way ; remember, 
your life maybe concerned in this matter, so take care." 
The mention of his life was enough ; he grasped the 
prisoner's arm, and off he ran at such a rate, that they 
were both out of sight in a minute or two. In the mean 
time I stood trembling in the road, thinking it useless to 
attempt getting out of the way, for, so weak was I with 
the long walk (or rather run), that I could not have gone 
any distance in the wood if I had ever such an inclina- 
tion so to do. So, thought I, I may as well die here as 
anywhere else ; but, upon my sister's coming up to me, I 
found the noise proceeded from the Negroes with the 
baggage, who were quarrelling about carrying it. 

When they heard, and indeed saw how I was fright- 
ened, (for they told me I looked as pale as death,) said 
Joe, " Do you think if it was so, I'd hab staid behind so 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 71 

long ? Not I ! Soon as ever I found how it was, Pd hab 
come out before, and that Negro should never hab told 
what hurted him. I'd have finished him, and got him 
out of the way ; better for him to die, than all of us die 
for him." We pursued our way, and got safe to my Fa- 
ther's, but were greatly indisposed for some days after, 
at the end of which we were put in another little flury, 
(no end to them, I think,) by three or four horsemen riding 
up to the house very fast ; but we were relieved from our 
fears by hearing one of them call out to us, " Do not be 
frightened ;" and we found it was Major Moore, with three 
of his men. He staid and dined with us, spent a part of 
the afternoonj and returned to camp. 

He had not been gone long, when a boat-load of Red 
Coats passed ; with them an officer, who stood up all the 
way, pointing his hand this way and that, as if asking 
whose and whose settlements those were on the river. 
In a short time they re-passed, their bayonets fixed, as if 
apprehensive of danger. Conscience told them they de- 
served something for what they had been about ; I sup- 
pose it was no good. 

I see I shall not finish my narrative in this letter ; so I 
will conclude, and am, as usual, your own 

Eliza. 



LETTER VII. 

Another alarm and removal. Amusing description of the flight. 
General Lincoln arrives. His appearance. Major Wise. Alarm 
at Yon e's Island. General Lincoln defeated near Stono Ferry. 
Mr. Yonge and family retire to Wiltown. 

I SHALL give an account of another run we had. Alas ! 
poor we ! — sure never were creatures so bandied about. 
One afternoon, my Father, taking a walk in his garden, 
observed a boat loaded with men, who, by their appear- 
ance, seemed to intend us a visit ; he was in great dis- 
tress at the sight, having been used so ill by them, and 
they had sworn they would kill him yet (God knows for 
what) ; he was apprehensive, if they came in a boat, they 
would carry him away ; and as he was in a poor state of 
health, should they do so, and treat him with fresh insults, 
he could not survive it. He came into the house, and shew- 
ing us the boat, went down to the landing, and taking 
two of his trusty Negro men with him, got into a small 
canoe, and rowed up the creek ; the enemy turned up the 
creek towards the house. Great was our consternation, 



LETTERS OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 73 

you may believe ; however, we bore it for a while, but 
could bear it no longer, when we perceived one of them 
stand up, call to the Negroes who rowed them, to pull hard, 
and turning from the house, crossed the flats in pursuit 
of Father ; but he being in a small boat with two excellent 
oarsmen, they could not overtake him, and getting 
ashore at a neighbouring plantation, he, with those two 
faithful slaves, made the best of their way to his planta- 
tion on Stono road (where Mr. Smilie had stayed) ; he 
immediately sent off* one of them to us, desiring us to quit 
the island directly, and come where he was. Indeed, he 
had no occasion to send, the messenger found us pack- 
ing up a few things, ready for a march ; but his coming 
hurried us ; we were soon ready ; a train of Negroes fol- 
lowing with our baggage, &;c. cScc. 

It was about dusk when we evacuated the Island House, 
and had three long miles to walk. As I had been obliged 
to walk it not long before, I seemed a little used to it, 
and trudged along pretty well ; but Mother got quite worst- 
ed before she was half way, and I believe would have 
made a night's journey of it if our driver-fellow had not 
met us with his little nag, and offered it to her. She glad- 
ly accepted his offer, and, mounting it by his assistance, 

ambled along in state ; while Miss Samuells and I, having 
7* 



74 LETTERS 

put ourselves in the centre of a crowd of Negroes, who at- 
tended us in our flight, footed it away smartly ; but could 
not forbear laughing immoderately when we observed to 
each other, that if it was daylight, or could we see 
plainly, then, what a group of laughable figures would be 
exhibited to view. Mother, with her little white palfry, 
(it was lame too,) and a gang of Negroes following her, i 
loaded with one thing or other, excited our mirth. Some- ' 
times we would lose a shoe, which would stick fast under 
roots that ran across the path ; at other times we 
stumbled over stumps, and ran against each other ; for it 
was so dark we could not see many yards before us, and 
sometimes not at all when we got into a thick part of the 
Tvood. Well, on we stumbled till we came to the Sands ; 
the water being still high, it was covered in several 
places ; one of the Negro men took hold of my hand to 
lead me to those places were the water had gone off. I 
suffered him to do so, but finding it very damp, I thought 
I might as well go through the water at once, for, said I 
" The enemy has caused me two runs already, and I don't 
know where I may be obliged to run to before they are ex- 
pelled this State, so I may as well begin to inure myself 
to hardships at first as at last." No sooner said than done, 
through the water went I without a murmur. 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 75 

It grew late, and the darkness increased ; every thing 
seemed awful about us, and, what increased the solemnity, 
the Birds of Minerva kept a continual hooting over our 
head, which were answered by their neighbors in the sur- 
rounding thickets ; and, to complete the scene, the frogs 
joined their melody! and Mother's little girl (whom a 
servant carried in her arms) would often scream out by 
way of treble, and I would as often lay hold of its mouth 
in order to stifle the cry ; and that was instead of the 
stops in music. Here was harmony, my dear ! don't you 
admire it ? We were serenaded in this delightful man- 
ner till we got near to the house, and then the dogs 
welcomed us with a howl. Miss Samuells and myself, 
with one gang of Negroes, arrived first ; Mother wan jog- 
ging on behind with the other gang. We found Father 
quite spent with his walk, and much distressed for us, for 
he knew not but the enemy had been with us. He asked 
for Mother ; we told him how lucky she was in meeting 
with a horse, while we were obliged to encounter roots, 
stumps, and bogs, on foot; but could not refrain from 
laughter at the conceit of what a droll figure she must 
make on her little lame pony. At length she arrived ; we 
congratulated her on having a horse to ride, but bragged 
that we had got the start of her though on foot. — « You 



76 LETTERS 

may laugh (said Mother) ; but if I had not been so lucky 
as to have met with the little horse, I should have been 
foundered, and I don't know but that I am as it is." This 
set us all a laughing, and sure never were a parcel of 
runaways in such a merry mood ! — And now we could 
sleep in some security, for we daily saw numbers of our 
friends, who were continually out, harassing the enemy, 
and keeping them so penned up at the ferry, that they 
could not go about committing outrages as they had done ; 
and sometimes in the night parties would ride up, and tell 
the Negroes to let the ladies know friends had been there, 
and were constantly riding about the whole night, so they 
might sleep soundly. 

A detachment of two or three hundred men, command- 
ed by Col. Malmady, were ordered on Father's Island ; 
they had a field-piece with them, and there they staid 
some time to command the river, which prevented the 
poor red coats from taking their accustomed airings. 
When they had been there a day or two, a company of 
horsemen rode up to the house we were in, and told us 
the General was coming along, and would be there pre- 
sently ; they had scarcely spoken, when three or four offi- 
cer appeared in view. They rode up ; (Colonel Roberts 
was with them, he and Father were old acquaintances.) He 



OP ELIZA WILKINSON, 77 

introduced one of the officers to Father. *' General Lin- 
coln, Sir !" Mother was at the door. She turned to us, 
<'0 girls, Gen. Lincoln !" — We flew to the door, joy in our 
countenances ! for we had heard such a character of the 
General, that we wanted to see him much. When he quit- 
ted his horse, and I saw him limp along, I can't describe 
my feelings. The thought that his limping was occasioned 
by defending his country from the invasion of a cruel and 
unjust enemy, created in me the utmost veneration and 
tender concern for him. You never saw Gen. Lincoln, 
Mary ? — I think he has something exceeding grave, and 
even solemn, in his aspect ; not forbiddingly so neither, but 
a something in his countenance that commands respect, 
and strikes assurance dumb. He did not stay above an 
hour or two with us, and then proceeded on to camp. 

That night, two or three hundred men quartered at the 
plantation we were at. As many of the officers as could, 
slept in the hall, (the house being very small, and only 
intended for an overseer's house). We wanted to have 
beds made for them. No, they would not have them on 
any account, — " beds were not for soldiers, the floor or the 
earth served them as well as anywhere else." " And 
now," said Major Moore, " I'll show you how soon a sol- 
dier's bed is made," and, taking his surtout, spread it on 



78 LETTERS 

the floor — '^ There," said he, " I assure you I sleep as well 
on that hard lodging as ever I slept on a feather-bed." 
— " You may say what you please, Major," (said Miss 
Samuells,) " but I'm sure a soldier's life is a life of hard- 
ships and sorrows." " Indeed, Madam, I think it the best 
life in the world ; it's what I delight in." *' I wish all 
soldiers delighted in it at this juncture," (said I,) "be- 
cause every thing they hold dear is at stake, and demands 
their presence and support in the field." 

There was one Capt. Goodin or Goodman, (or some 
such name,) among the officers — I wish I could remem- 
ber, or rather knew his right name; for he spoke so pret- 
tily on the subject, that I've put him down among my list 
of worthies : I forgot the whole of what he said, but one 
part I still remember. After speaking of what hardships 
a soldier necessarily undergoes — " For my part I care not 
what I undergo," (said he,) " so I could see my country 
free before 1 die, and could have this thought to console 
me in all my sufferings, that I was (in the hand of Pro- 
vidence,) but the smallest instrument in helping to pro- 
mote my country's welfare ; early did I embark in the 
American cause, and sooner will I die than give it up !" 
He seemed by his earnestness to speak the very senti- 
ments of his heart. — "May you, and all the friends of 



OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 7^ 

America,'* (said I,) '*soon reap the benefit of your labor ; 
that power which has so long upheld you, I hope will con- 
tinue to bless and support you, and shortly grant you 
every happiness you desire." I then recounted to him 
many of the anxieties and sorrows we had undergone at 
the time of the enemy's first coming down among us, and 
how distressed we all were when we could hear nothing 
of Gen. Lincoln and his army. He seemed quite pleas- 
ed at the relation. " O, Madam, what men are there that 
would not undergo any thing when they see and know 
the ladies are friends to the cause they are engaged in ! 
This prompts us on ; we can fight with spirit and confi- 
dence, because Pm sure their prayers must have some 
effect ; you don't know what concern it has given me 
when I've found any of the fair sex against our pro. 
ceedings, but now I care not what I suffer — the thoughts 
— the certainty I may say, that there are some ladies in 
the world who wish well to an American soldier, will 
sweeten every hour of sorrow, and arm me with consola- 
tion to encounter every danger." Thus far Capt. Good- 
in — I think that is his name — much more he said which 
has slipped my memory. — After chatting a while longer 
we wished them a good night, and retired ; and just about 
day-break they moved to camp. 



80 LETTERS 

In the morning a messenger came to Father from the 
commanding officer at the island, advising him to move 
off his furniture and Negroes, with whatever was on the 
island that could be moved, as several of the enemy's 
barges and other boats were coming down the river. 
Awhile after, we heard our field-pieces begin to roar, and 
presently an express came along for a reinforcement from 
Major Pickney, who was a few miles down the Stono road 
with the first regiment — the reason that a reinforcement 
was necessary was, that our people were on an island 
where there was but one passage to go off and on, and 
that a long causeway ; and the enemy might have come 
through bye-ways from the ferry, and got possession of 
that pass, which would have proved fatal to our island- 
ers. A sentry, who was posted somewhere on the main 
in sight of the river, gave notice that he saw several 
schooners, which were following the barges ; so that it 
seemed likely the enemy were going to make an at- 
tempt in force upon them, and they were endeavoring 
to be prepared for such an attempt. We took one or 
two boats and a schooner, but no troops from the British 
came on shore. The next morning Major Wise, and an 
officer belonging to Col. Horry's horse, breakfasted with 
us. While we were at breakfast, we heard cannon towards 



r 
OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 8l 

Stono Ferry roaring in a horrid manner ; we immediately 
quit the table and ran out of doors, to hearken if it was 
there. We found it was ; and for a long time both cannon 
and small arms kept up a continual awful thunder. With 
clasped hands I invoked heaven to protect, to shield my 
friends and countrymen, and was in the greatest anxiety 
for the event. The two officers who were with us, mounti« 
ed their horses, and repaired to their posts, and we re- 
mained in great distress, our ears still shocked with 
the solemn sound of what carried death and destruction. 
We traversed the hall with impatience, yet dreading to 
hear how it had fared with our army. 

At length a soldier entered ; rueful was his counte* 
nance, (whichi believe was natural to him,) and his tatter- 
ed raiment showed " a variety of wretchedness." He 
stared me full in the face, giving his head a shake as if 
it was loaded with what he had to say, and could not get 
vent enough by speech alone, but required some motion 
also. This I have since recollected ; for at the time I was 
insuch distress I could make no observation. In a hollow 
voice, he drawled out — " The affair is decided," — lifting 
up his hands ! By his manner of saying this, I expected 
no good of our side. 



8 



82 LETTERS 

" Explain your meaning," said F; " tell me, how has 
the battle ended?" 

" General Lincoln," (replied he in the same tone,) "and 
his army are cut to peices !" 

This was far worse than I expected ; Great God ! ex- 
claimed I, — no more could I say, down I sat, overwhelm- 
ed with consternation. Imagination soon transported me 
to the field of battle ; there, in heaps, I beheld my slaugh- 
tered friends ; there did I behold the earth dyed with 
American blood ; there did I also see numbers of wound- 
ed, stretched upon their native land in agonizing pain ; 
while the cruel, savage enemy stood insulting over them, 
and tormenting their already mangled bodies with the 
bloody bayonet, deaf to all the cries of mercy, and void 
of every tender feeling of humanity ; then would I behold 
my countrymen expiring in agonies unutterable, while 
others were dragged away, bound, and treated in the most 
insulting scoffing manner. And can it be, thought 
I ! is this really so ? — O day of sorrows ! must America 
indeed fall ! after resisting so long too ! after so many 
of her sons have nobly dared to die in her defence, must 
they die in vain 1 But I will not trouble you with any 
more of my thoughts or reflections : indeed, I cannot 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 8J 

remember one half of them,^they crowded so fast on my 
mind. 

Father and Mother thought it best to get a little more 
out of the way, so we prepared to do so ; and very op- 
portunely, ray brother had come from camp the night be- 
fore, so Father had his boy's horse put to his chaise, and 
an acquaintance of ours, to whom I had lent my horse, 
came with him, and I had him put to my chaise ; and one 
of Father's horses, which the enemy took from him, pre- 
ferring the service of a Whig to a Tory, had very faith- 
fully returned home of his own accord ; so we had him 
for the waiting-man to ride. We were busily preparing 
for our third run (to Willtown), when two horsemen came 
riding up the avenue very fast indeed. We called to them, 
and entreated they would tell us the real truth, though we 
dreaded to hear the horrid things confirmed. They an- 
swered, that they were sent express to the island, and could 
not stay to tell us ; but the sight of them alone revived 
my drooping spirits, which were almost exhausted. If 
our whole army be cut off," said I, " from whence can 
these expresses be sent ?" 

One of them seeing us all at the door, turned his horse 
and rode up ; the other swiftly pursued his way. No 
sooner was he near enough, but our mouths were all opeu 



84 LETTERS 

to inquire. " Do, my friend, tell us how the battle has 
ended?" " Why, we have had a smart engagement, and 
Gen. Lincoln has retreated until he can get a reinforce- 
ment from the army." 

" Why," said I, " had he not all his men with him in 

the engagement ?" 

'' O, no. Madam ; the greater part remains at camp." 

One of us expressed our fears that we had a great 
many killed and wounded, being so exposed to the enemy's 
shot while they were sheltered by their works. 

" I believe," said he, " there are many killed on both 
sides, fur it was a hot engagement ; the shot fell as thick 
as showers of hail : but I fancy we shall attack them 
again shortly." 

We asked what an express was sent to the island for. 

" To order the troops there to retreat to camp imme- 
diately, for their number being small, and the situation 
of the place dangerous, they might be surprised." 

This detemined us to hurry off with expedition ; for 
as General Lincoln had retreated, should the enemy hear 
that the detachment at the island had done the same, 
they would fancy they had done some great matter ; and 
so, flushed with their imaginary success, they would be- 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 85 

gin to venture out of their lines again to distress the 
people. 

Our horses being ready, away we went, and just got 
to the road when we saw our little band of Patriots on 
their march from the island. Several of the otiicers halt- 
ed and spoke to us, but did not seem to relish the retreat 
at all. We rode in company with them a mile or two ; 
and when we were going to part, an officer in the horse 
company, observing Father's horse to be none of the best, 
very politely offered one of his to him, and insisted on 
his taking it as far as Wiltown. Father thankfully ac- 
cepted his kind offer ; which was the more kind, we being 
strangers to him. His servant also attended us, and we 
soon got to Willtown, where the poor runaways met a 
kind reception. 

And now I think it time to finish this scrawl — I am 
tired of the pen ; I pray heaven it may never be employ- 
ed on such a subject again. The country being very dull 
at present, and most of my friends and acquaintances in 
town or in distant parts of the country, I had recourse 
to my pen, and the various scenes of distress I had so 
lately undergone being uppermost in my mind, 1 chose 
that subject to divert my leisure hours, and hope I have 



8* 



96 liKTTRRS 

not tired you by the relation ; and now I shall conclude, 
ardently wishing, praying, I mean — (Young says, 

" Wishing the common hectic of a fool,") 

that America, mj dear native land, may long, very long, 
even to the end of time, be distinguished as the favor- 
ite of heaven, and delight of mankind, by a strict adhe- 
rence to every Godlike act ; may humanity, piety, and 
tender sympathy be the distinguished character of every 
son and daughter of America : and may our brethren, 
who now sleep in the dust, who expired in defence of their 
country, awake at the sound of the last trumpet to ever- 
lasting joy and glory ; and may we meet them in those 
blissful regions of peace and happiness, where no more 
oppression can molest and distress us, where the hand of 
violence dare not enter, and injustice is not known. 



"Hail, sacred Salem, plac'don high! 
Seat of the mighty King, 
What thought can grasp thy boundless bliss 1 
What tongue thy glories sing 1 

Thy crystal towers and palaces, 

Magnificently rise ; 
And dart their beauteous lustre round 

The empyrean skies. 



K 



f 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 87 

Bright smiles on every face appear, 

Rapture in every eye ; 
From every mouth glad anthems flow, 
And charming harmony. 

No scorching heats, no piercing colds, 

The changing seasons bring ; 
But o'er the fields, mild breezes there 

Breathe an eternal Spring. 

The flowers with lasting beauty shine, 

And deck the smiling ground ; 
While flowing streams of pleasure all 

The happy plains surround." 

Ah, Mary, who would not wish for a place on those 
beautiful shores, especially now that discord has taken 
possession of our lower world, and all is dismay and tu- 
mult ? And God knows but in a little time we shall 
have a repetition of the same distressing scenes we have 
so lately seen acted. Pray heaven avert it, and restore 
peace to this distressed land, and joy to us, 

I am, my dear, ever yours. 

Eliza W* 



LETTER Vlir. 

: New aggressions of the enemy. Reduction of Charlestown. 

Since writing the foregoing epistles, we have been 
humbled to the dust, again plundered, worse than ever 
plundered ! Our very doors and window-shutters were 
taken from the house, and carried aboard the vessels 
which lay in the river opposite our habitation ; the sash- 
es beaten out ; furniture demolished ; goods carried off ; 
beds ripped up ; stock of every kind driven away ; in 
short, distresses of every nature attended us. 

Ah ! my foreboding soul ! what I feared has indeed ta- 
ken place. S. Carolina growns under the British yoke ; 
her sons and daughters are exiled, driven from their na- 
tive land ; and their pleasant habitations seized by the 
insulting victors. " Violence and oppression, and sword 
law, spread o'er the plains, and refuge none is found." 
Those who are suffered to remain, are entirely at their 



LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 89 

mercy ; their property is taken and detained from them. 
When they complain, they are insulted and laughed at ; 
and upon the least suspicion imprisoned, ladies not ex- 

cepted, (the Miss Sa 's, lor instance.) But should I 

attempt to enumerate the many base actions which have 
attended the reduction of Charlestown — or rather the 
capitulation — I should engross too much of my time and 
paper ; suffice it to say, that the nameofEnglishmanisa 
term of reproach ; they have, by their cruelties and op- 
pressions, cast an odium on their country. O Britain ! 
" how art thou fallen !" how are thy virtues, which once 
distinguished thee, sunk and swallowed in vice ! Though 
I have been a sufferer and sharer in the general calami- 
ty thou hast brought on our land, I still lament thee ! O 
Britain, I still pity thy disgrace. A brave and generous 
people can never be overcome but by acts of generosity. 
Had you endeavored to conquer in that way, we should 
ere this have been united in bonds of friendship and hap- 
piness ; but, by repeE|.ted and manifold injuries, the spirit 
of resentment and opposition will subsist. 



LETTER IX. 

Complaints respecting the parole. 

I HAVE this moment received and perused your epistle, 
and am glad to find your spirits still so good amidst all 
this trouble and consternation. I saw my brother on I 
Thursday last; I think he seemed more thoughtful than 
usual. I cannot say I like your paroles at all, for I find 
by my brother's, that neither your person nor property is 
secure, — the one from insult, the other from the hand of 
injustice. Besides, you have just given yourselves up pri- 
soners at discretion, vvithout the least condition ; surely 
you could not have considered this matter as seriously as 
the case required ; if you will reflect, you will find more 
evil in it than you are aware of. However, I hope the 
all- wise Disposer and Director of events will turn it to 
your advantage. In my humble opinion, all such as 
were of your way of tliinking should have kept out of 



i 



[ 



LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 91 

the way, or never put their hands to sign their own dooms. 
Indeed, you should have parlied, as that parole was in no 
way satisfactory. 

I am now at my brother Frank's, where I spend this 
day, it being the anniversary of his son's birth. Alas ! 
poor infant, it may be better you had never seen the 
light ; for in such perilous times who knows what your 
sufferings may be ! Do you think I did not shed tears 
when I was invited here this morning on the occasion ? 
It brought a train of melancholy ideas to view, and sor- 
rowful suppositions ; but no more of this, I must end. 
Company here, and no place I can retire to. Adieu, 

Adieu ! says your Cousin. 

Eliza 



LETTER X. 

Lament over British successes. -Small-pox. 

Mount Royal, May 19, 1781. 

'' Hang dull life , 'tis all a folly, 
Why should we be melancholy 1" 

Aye, why should we ? Does it answer one good pur- 
pose ? or will it be any alleviation to our present misfor- 
tunes? No. Very well, then, I will e'en banish itj 
and make the best of what I cannot prevent. 'To indulge 
melancholy, is to afflict ourselves, and make the edge of 
calamity more keen and cutting ; so I will endeavor to 
maintain a calm, let what will happen. I will summon 
philosophy, fortitude, patience, and resignation to my 
aid ; and sweet hope, which never forsakes us, will be 
one chief support. Let us, by anticipation, be happy ; 
and though we may have cause to mourn, let it not be 
with despair* 



LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 93 

T have just got the better of the small. pox, thanks be 
to God for the same. My face is finely ornamented, and 
my nose honored with thirteen spots. I must add, that I 
am pleased they will not pit, for as much as I revere the 
number, I would not choose to have so conspicuous a mark. 
I intend, in a few days, to introduce my spotted face in 
Charlestovvn. I hear there are a number of my friends 
and acquaintances to be exiled, and I must see them be- 
fore they are. Oh ! Mary, who can forbear to execrate 
these barbarous, insulting red. coats ? I despise them 
most cordially, and hope their day of suffering is not 
far off. I have received a long epistle from on board 
the prison ship ; it is dated from the *'Pack Horse, or 
Wilful Murder," and signed by two of its inhabitants. 
They first congratulate me on my recovery from the 
small-pox, and then proceed to a detail of their sufferings, 
and a description of their present habitation. But I am 
very much pleased to see by their style, that they bear 
all with fortitude, and are still in high spirits, f have 
also had a letter from Capt. **** ; he advises me to take 
care whom I speak to, and not to be very saucy ; for the 
two Miss Sarazens were put in Provost, and very much 
insulted for some trifle or other. Did you ever hear the 
like ! Do the Britons imagine that they will conquer 
9 



94 LETTERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 

America by such actions ? If they do, they will find them- 
selves much mistaken. I will answer for that. We may 
be ledf but we never will be driven ! He also writes mcj 
that the Britons were making great preparations to cele- 
brate the anniversary of the day that Charlestown ca- 
pitulated, and that, what with the grand parade, and one 
thing or other, a poor rebel had not the least chance to 
walk the streets without being insulted ; but, in opposi- 
tion to all that, he had hoisted a very large union in his 
hat, and would brave it out ; that the rebel ladies were 
obliged to compose their phizzes before they dared to 
venture in the streets ; and concludes in as high spirits 
as he began. How it pleases me to see our prisoners 
bear it as they do. They live in the greatest harmony 
together, and are in high favor with the ladies ; which, I 
dare say, gives the proud conquerors the heart-burn. 
Bless me ! here is a whole troop of British horse coming 
up to the house ; get into my bosom, letter ; — how I trem- 
ble ! I won't finish it until I return from Charlestown. 
Adieu, till then. 



DETTER XI. 

Mrs. Wilkinson visits Charlestown. Goes on board the prison-ship. 
Conversation with British Officers; Walk on the Bay. Shop- 
ping in Broad Street. 

Yonge's Island, July 14th. 

Well, I have been to town, and seen all my friends and 
quarrelled with my enemies. I went on board the pri- 
son ship, too, and drank coffee with the prisoners ; the 
dear fellows were in high spirits, and expecting to be 
speedily exchanged ; indeed, they were so before I left 
town. I saw the last vessel sail, and a number of ladies 
with them of our acquaintance, who have sailed from 
their native land. The day that the last vessel sailed, 
some British officers came to the house where I staid. I 
was sitting very melancholy, and did not alter my posi- 
tion on their entrance. They sat for some time ; at length 
they broke silence with — "You seem melancholy. Ma- 
dam!" " I am so, Sir ; I am thinking how suddenly I 
am deprived of my friends, and left almost alone in the 
midst of"- — - 



96 LETTERS 

** Do not say enemies, Madam," (interrupting me,) — 
"there is not one in this garrison but would protect and 
serve you to the utmost of his power, as well as those 
whose absence you lament." 

" I have no further business in this garrison. Sir ; those 
on whose account I came down are now gone, and I shall 
very shortly return to the country ; or you may send me 
©ff, too— will you ?" 

" No, no. Madam ; I will enter a caveat against that — I 
am determined to convert you." 

" That you never shall, for I am determined not to be 
converted by you." 

" Why, then, you shall convert me." 

" I shall not attempt it. Sir" — and I turned about, and 
spoke to a lady by me. Some time after I was asked to 
play the guitar, — "I cannot play, I am very dull." 

" How long do you intend to continue so, Mrs. Wilk- 



inson 



7" 



" Until my countrymen return. Sir !" 
*' Return as what, Madam? — ^prisoners or subjects ?" 
" As conquerors ! Sir." 

He affected a laugh. "You will never see that, 
Madam." 

'* I live in hopes, Sir, of seeing the thirteen stripes 



OF ELI2A WILKINSON. 97 

hoisted, once more hoisted, on the bastions of this garri- 
son." 

" Do not hope so ; but come, give us a tune on the 
guitar." 

"I can play nothing but rebel songs." 

« Well, let us have one of them." 

" Not to-day — I cannot play — I will not play ; besides, 
1 suppose I should be put into the Provost for such a 
heinous crime,'^ 

" Not for the world, Madam ; you never should be 
put there." 

"Aye, aye, so you say ; but 1 see no respect shown ;" 
and, saying this, I went into the chamber, and he down 
stairs. 

I have often wondered, since, I was not packed off 
too, for I was very saucy, and never disguised my senti- 
ments. 

" One day Kitty and I were going to take a walk on 
the Bay to get something we wanted. Just as we had 
got our hats on, up ran one of the Billets into the dining- 
room, where we were, — 

" Tour servant, ladies," — 

" Your servant. Sir." 

« Going out, ladies ?" 

9* 



98 LETTERS 

" Only to take a little walk." 

He immediately turned about, and ran down stairs, I 
guessed for what. 

Kitty, Kitty, let us hurry off, child ; he is gone for 
his hat and sword as sure as you are alive, and means 
to accompany us." We immediately caught up our silk 
gowns to keep them from rustling, and flew down stairs 
as light as we could, to avoid being heard. Out of the 
street door we went, and I believe ran near two hun- 
dred yards, and then walked very fast. Looking behind, 
we saw him at some distance, walking at a great rate. 
We hurried down another street, and went in a half-run 
until we came to Bedon's Alley, and, turning that, we 
walked on leisurely to rest ourselves. It was near an 
hour after, beiiig in a store in Broad-Street, that we saw 
him pass, in company with five or six other officers, 
with one of whom he was hooking-arms. — Kitty spied 
him out, and, pointing to him and, looking at me, we ran 
behind the door to hide ourselves ; but he got a glimpse 
of us before we could do so, and quitting his companions, 
came immediately into the store, and seemed quite trans- 
ported to find us. Foolish fella w ! I could not help 
pitying him for his good-nature, and behaving mighty 
civil to him. Had he been one of your impudent, blus- 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 99 

tering red-coats, wliu think nothing bad enough they can 
say of the rebels^ I should have discarded him that nno- 
ment, and driven him from my presence ; but he ac- 
costed us so smilingly, and with such an airofdiffienca a/ 
that I could not find in my heart one spark of ill-nature 
, towards him ; sol smiled too, and away we walked. He 
offered me his hand, or arm rather, to lean on. 

*' Excuse me, Sir," said I ; " I will support myself, if 
you please." 

" No, Madam, the pavements are very uneven — you 
may get a fall ; do accept my arm." 
" Pardon me, I cannot." 

" Come, you do not know what your condescension 
may do. — I will turn rebel !" 

" Will you ? said I, laughing — " turn rebel first, and 
then offer your arm." 

We stopped in another store, where were several Bri- 
tish officers ; after asking for articles which I wanted, I 
saw a broad roll of ribbon, which appeared to be of black 
and white stripes. 

"Go," said I to the officer that was with us, "and 
reckon the stripes of that ribbon ; see if they are Ihirteen.'^' 
(with an emphasis I spoke the word — and he went too !) 
"Yes, they are thirteen, upon my word. Madam." 



100 liETl^ERS OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 

*^ Do hand it me»" He did so ; I took it, and found that 
it was narrow black ribbon, carefully wound round a 
broad white. I returned it to its place on the shelf. 

" Madam," said the merchant, '' you can buy the black 
and white, too, and tack them in stripes." 

" By no means, Sir ; I would not have them slightly ^ 
tacked, h\xi firmly united.'^ The above-mentioned officers 
sat on the counter kicking their heels ; — how they gaped 
at me when I said this ! but the merchant laughed hear- 
tily. 

Well, I have composed a long letter out of nothing ; 

pardon the subject. I am on this lonely island, and 

have nothing to inspire my pen. Let me hear from you, 

but I would rather see you, if you would think it worth 

while to favor me with a visit. Come, my dear, I have 

a thousand little things to whisper in your ear, of who, 

and whatf and how. If you have but the tenth part of 

that curiosity ascribed to your sex, you will fly to Yonge's 

Island, to enjoy these promised tete-a-tetes. — Not ono 

word more. 

Eliza W. 



LETTER XII. 

Joy at Cornwaliis's surrender. Col. Allan. Conversation with 
Captain Sanford, a British Officer. 

" Hark! — the joyful news has come!" 
Yes, joyful indeed ! Cornwallis — the mighty British 
hero — the man of might and his boasted army, are con- 
quered, subdued, by the glorious Washington ! Ten 
thousand blessings on the name, — May heaven always 
crown his endeavors with the like success : — but that is 
not all the "joyful news !" my dear; General Greene with 
his army are crossing Santee River, and we shall short- 
ly have him here among us : and then how happy we 
shall be, surrounded by friends, and saying and doing 
what we please without fear of punishment. Our red 
and green birds, who have been, for some time past, fly- 
ing about the country, and insolently perching them- 
selves upon our houses, will bo all caged up in Charles- 
town : — that is the beauty of it ! — Oh. how they will flut- 
ter about, and beat their plumes in mere fright ! — Do 



102 LETTERS 

you not think it a little spiteful to laugh at them ? I 
cannot help it ; — I must, I will ; and I have even ven- 
tured to laugh at some to their faces, out of a little 
sweet revenge — I will tell you all how it was. Mrs. 
Fabian has been staying with us for some time. Hav- 
ing been from home longer than she expected, she pro- 
posed taking a ride to see how matters had gone on in 
her absence, and I offered my attendance ; so the next 
morning we attempted to go. We had gone a little 
beyond my brother Frank's, merrily talking and laugh- 
ing, and lo ! to our great consternation, we beheld six 
dragoons galloping towards us. They commanded us to 
" halt," but Mrs. F. not knowing what she said, com- 
manded the servant to " drive on." — He was preparing to 
obey her, giving the horse a lash, when the cry of " halt" 
was repeated ; and immediately we saw what almost de- 
prived us of sense, motion, nay, life itself, — an army of 
red and green coats, both horse and foot ! " Lord help 
us, Mrs. Fabian." " What shall we do, Mrs. Wilkinson?" 
— we both cried at once, grasping each other's hand, 
and never were poor creatures in a more mortal fright. 
They came up ; the oflicers politftly bowed, and asked us 
where we were going, from whence we came ? — and we 
had the same questions to answer to each commanding 



# 



OF ELIZA WILKINSON. 103 

officer of the different companies as they passed us : 
which, before we had half done, I recovered my reason 
and sauciness at once, and gave them a look which said, 
"You are impertinently curious'; what is it to you from 
whence we came or whither we go." The last company 
turned us back. Col. Allen, who commanded the whole, 
was with them ; he himself took our reins, and turned the 
chaise, politely asking our leave, and telling us we had 
best be at home at such a time. " Sir, you will not have 
our horses taken from us ?" 

" By no means. Madam." 

And we did so " sir" and "madam" each other. We 
rode along in state, — a grand escort ! — till we came in 
sight of the house ; when Col. Allen, a considerate, cle- 
ver fellow, though among the red-coats, ordered the men 
to halt, and would not let one of them approach the house 
till he rode up, helped us out of the chaise, and begged 
Mother to have her poultry, and whatever else she valued, 
locked up, that they might be secured from the soldiery, 
and put a sentry over the kitchen, &c. dec. He then 
went over to my brother's, where he, and the greater part 
of his men, quartered, about a mile from Mother's ; but 
before he went, he called a Capt. Sanford, and commend- 
ed us and ours to his care and protection ; at the same 



104 LETTERS 

time saying to us, *' Ladies, do not be under any apprehen- 
sion ; I leave you to the care of Capt. Sanford, one of 
the best-hred men in Europe.'* 

Sanford seemed inclined to worship him for the com- 
pliment ; he made a very profound congee, and then en- 
tered the house to take charge of us ; but first went and 
smarted himself up so fine and so trim ; — his head 
combed and powdered with elegance : he came strutting 
in, and took a seat by me, and seemed desirous of begin- 
ing a conversation, but at a loss for a subject. At last, 
after stroking down his rufiles and fingering his cravat 
or stock, he began ; " This is a very pleasant situation, 
Miss," I was nothing but Miss for some time. " Yes, Sir," 
the prospect is agreeable, but the situation I think soli- 
tary." " I do not know, I admire it much, though it seems 
rather sequestered. Do you spend all the year here, or 
some part of it in Charlestown ?" 

*' I used to spend the sickly months, which are our 
autumns, in Charlestown, but this year I have resided 
wholly in the country. 

" But why so. Miss ; you ought to be down now, there 
is nothing going forward but concerts assemblies, and 
Other polite amusements, which ladies generally admire." 

I have had invitations to share in them, but have de- 



OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 105 

clined, as I would rather be where I am, than in Charles- 
town just now." We had a great deal of chit chat, but 
were interrupted by a little girl of mine, who came to 
tell me that the soldiers had cut my homespun out of 
the loom, and were bundling it up. " Why, Capt. San- 
ford," said I, " you command a gang of them. Pray make 
them deliver the cloth. Your countrymen will not let 
us have Negro cloth from town, for fear the rebels should 
be supplied ; so we are obliged to weave. '^ He and ano- 
ther officer ran out. 1 went to the piazza, and ordered 
one of the servants to go immediately and bring the 
cloth in the house, and have it locked up. She did so, 
and the officers who went in quest of it, followed. At 
the same time a hog came running across the yard on 
three legs ; some of the soldiers were in pursuit of him; 
they had cut off the other leg. " Capt. Sanford," said I, 
" every thing here was left in your protection." Then 
putting on a very grave look, I called to my boy, and 
ordered him to drive up the hogs, and carry them up 
stairs into my chamber, pigs and all ; saying I would 
protect them myself. The sentry, who was at the house 
door, laughed; Capt. Sanford smiled, yet affected to be 
in a passion, and, drawing his sword, ran out after the 

soldiers. They had killed two or three of the hogs, but 
10 



106 LETTERS 

he threatened them if they killed another ; so they became 
more orderly ; then leaving him, I went into the chamber 
where Mrs. Fabian and her daughter were, and there I 
staid for some time. He walked about the hall, and 
seemed very restless ; and Mother going out, he inquired 
who I was, and seemed very much taken with me, and 
had the assurance to beg Mother's interest in his favor. 
At last he begged I would come out, and oblige them 
with my company ; I sent him word T was otherwise 
engaged, and could not come. 

At supper, when saying how long they had been about 
our neighborhood, some of the officers expressed their 
surprise that they had not been attacked by the 
rebels. " Aye," said Sanford, " I wonder at it. We have 
been at Willtown, Pon Pon, &c. &:c. driving off cattle 
and provisions, and they cannot afford to prevent our 
doing so. Pray, Madam," to me, " can you tell me what 
it is owing to ? Whether from the want of courage or 
conduct ?" 

" From neither," Sir ; " but as they can take whole ar- 
mies, they don't think it worth their while to attack a 
detachment." 

" May be," says one, whose name was Rollinson, " they 
have sent an express to Congress to know whether they 



OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 107 

must fight us, and are waiting for his return before they 
do so." 

" Very likely" and <' may be so" was re-echoed, and 
then a hearty laugh crowned the witty speech ; RoUin- 
son laughing louder than the rest at his own sagacity. 
A deal of small chat ensued, some highly ridiculous ; but 
I have recited enough, and shall only tell you, that after 
we were tired out with the several topics of conversation, 
they introduced that of the king, queen, and royal 
family. How the king bowed to one of them, the queen 
smiled at them while they were on guard somewhere 
near the royal palace ; and that the royal family were, 
most of them, near-sighted, as the king himself was. I 
have repented that I did not say he must have been very 
near-sighted, or he could not have begun this war : for 
any one who could see at a distance, must have seen the 
evils which have ensued. We retired to our chambers, 
and they shall have the credit they deserved for behav- 
ing exceedingly well the whole night. We heard not 
the least noise or riot after we left them, though they 
had a cask of rum, which they had brought with them. 
In the hall they kept a profound silence ; and we enjoy- 
ed undisturbed repose. They moved early in the morn- 
ing. Sanford opened the staircase door, and called to 




108 LETTERS OP ELIZA WILKINSON. 

me, " God bless you, Mrs. Wilkinson, I wish you every 
happiness ; but do not think you shall stay on this island 
long. I intend to get an order, and will come and car- 
ry you off." After blessing me again, away he went. 
AVishing you the blessing he wished me, I bid you fare- 

well. And so I conclude. 

Eliza W. 



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